Politics is full of characters. Some are bombastic, some are sly, some eccentric. But one wishes never to be branded dull and dithering. Yet when the Energy Secretary stepped before the press pack, she came across a little more Mrs Doyle and a little less Mrs T.

She doddered around the room, each greeting so slow you could have brewed a pot between hello and handshake. And the handshake, when it finally arrived, was as limp as salad under a hot lamp. Miatta Fahnbulleh, the offending minister – never heard of her? You’re not missing much.

She’d limped away from a blazing row in which she declined seven times to back the Home Secretaryโ€™s immigration plans.

Green she looked, laughing it off with the gaiety of a hostess whose kitchen is ablaze.

โ€œYouโ€™re the one who calls me an eco-zealot,โ€ she said, grasping my hand limply.

Guilty, mโ€™lud. Under her, the Left-wing New Economics Foundation demanded 5% of GDP be spent on net zero โ€“ more than Britain spends on its armed forces. If the hat fits, Minister.

Mending fences, she leaned in with a tip about her speech. โ€œIโ€™d lower your expectations,โ€ she said.

Rare is the politician who undersells. Rarer still the one proved right.

The speech was cold porridge. She tiptoed round the row, paused for a chuckle about her friend Andy Burnham โ€“ fellow Oxbridge graduate and certified ordinary bloke โ€“ then ladled out platitudes on net zero.

Her principles were sold down the river when she approved the Jackdaw gas field, yet held firm against Rosebank. A position requiring the spine of a contortionist and the convictions of a weathervane.

Then came questions. I thrust a hand skyward, only for a staffer to step smartly into my eyeline. โ€œWhat about indefinite leave to remain?โ€ I had longed to ask.

But off she bustled. Expectations, as promised, duly lowered.