Mr. Worldwide: Pitbull’s London show feels like the only cult I’d ever want to join

It must have been the strangest of sights for anyone travelling on the Jubilee Line last Friday who was caught unaware: entire carriages rammed with people rocking bald caps, tuxedos and aviators on their way down to North Greenwich.

But for the man born Armando Christian Pérez, doppelgängers crowds like these and sold-out shows at arenas like these across the world are what he’s come to expect. After all, he’s Mr. Worldwide.

It’s easy to be cynical about Pitbull. You may argue that his songs – pop bangers for the record – are most likely to be heard in the hometown club you haven’t visited since you were 18. Or the fact that the man himself – who once rhymed Kodak with Kodak on 2011’s ‘Give Me Everything’ – isn’t necessarily known for subtlety or nuance.

But what he is known for, however, is life-affirming mantras like Don’t Stop The Party – and christ only knows that’s something we can all live by in these challenging days of 2025.

And it’s this that propels 20,000 fans – a good ninety percent in bald caps – through 90 minutes in Pitbull’s company. He enters to a random medley of Metallica’s ‘Enter Sandman’ and Beastie Boys’ ‘Fight for Your Right’. No one quite knows why, but rules or logic don’t apply when you’re Pitbull. Mr Worldwide does what he wants.

From here, it’s an explosive start – ‘Don’t Stop the Party’ sees the man himself look out into a sea of doppelgängers who indeed won’t stop partying for the next 90 minutes. I’ve seen over fifty shows at The O2 and – hand on my heart – I’ve rarely seen a crowd as up for it as this. The screams that greet him after the first song are genuinely ear-splitting, while the entire room is on their feet for the whole show.

It’s ridiculous stuff, but even the hardest of cynics would surely be unable to resist a cheeky grin at 20,000 people losing their shit under the command of a bloke who looks like he’d be in charge of the door at a Yates Wine Lodge. He also thanks the thousands of bald-cap adorning fans at one point, hinting that there’s a healthy dose of self-awareness at play here.

There’s hits a plenty from the man who has has sold over 25 million studio albums and over 100 million singles worldwide, but also some affirmations for life. Pitbull deals in the kind of platitudes that would be catnip to the live-laugh-love crowd, but he delivers them with a level of sincerity that means you find yourself oddly going along with it.

“Life is not a waste of time. And time is not a waste of life. So let’s not waste any time, get wasted tonight and have the time of our lives,” he offers at one point. In a closing speech, he then proudly shows off photos of the 12 schools he has built in his native Miami and notes that one of them has achieved a graduation rate of 100 percent. “When people say to me Chico, how many kids you got? From the bottom of my heart and my soul I tell ’em I got 10,000 kids,” he says to mass screams. “I’ve got goosebumps,” a friend I’ve gone along with says.

This is inherent to the appeal, I reckon, and especially at a time when problems across the globe couldn’t be any bleaker. Speaking to The Independent before last week’s show, one fan who worked in a high-pressure hospital job explained that, “When I’m stressed, I put a wee bit of Pitbull on in the car and it’s like ‘Right, OK. Tomorrow’s another day. You’ll be fine.’”

We all need a bit of escapism and for 20,000 people on Friday night – the joyous cult of Pitbull provided exactly that. All together now: Daleeeee!