James Cleverly is immersed in his mobile when I finally hurtle into Kerridge’s off Embankment. The former foreign secretary and Tory member of parliament has been waiting half an hour. A mix-up — which we both uncharitably blame, with a conspiratorial smile, on his adviser’s enunciation — meant that at the appointed hour I had been seated at Claridge’s in Mayfair. One black cab later, we are finally dining at the same table.

Miming a traditional meditation pose, he declares himself “Zen” about my lateness — although I presume a man who I notice wears two watches, a Breitling on his left wrist and an Apple Watch on his right, is usually rather punctual. 

He is Zen too, he insists, about the extraordinary arc of fortune in recent weeks that seemingly propelled him to pole position in the Conservative leadership race — only to exit in a shock elimination before reaching the final round of voting.