I met Keir Starmer and knew he's not a proper prime minister in in 40 seconds

Keir Starmer has been Prime Minister now for more than a year, and, to say the least, the beginning of his premiership has been less than auspicious. His judgement has been called into question, most recently over his appointment of Peter Mandelson as the UK's ambassador to the US, and critics have questioned whether he has the charisma and political drive for the job. Starmer has styled himself as a non-ideological politician, the experienced and steady maintenance man the country needs to fix its fundamental problems, whether that is the justice system, transport network or health service.

But, to be a leader, one needs at least an ounce of character, and should have the ability to independently conjure up inspirational thoughts to share with a nation under the cosh. Apparently, the PM is likeable and a right laugh behind closed doors, but, for some reason, this side of him has stayed there. When I met Starmer during the launch of Labour's general election battle bus last summer, it was as a local reporter for the Express's sister site, MyLondon.

The Labour leader shuffled along a line of press, guided by his media team, talking to national outlets one after another.

When he reached me, we shook hands, and I asked him what he would do for London with the capital's Mayor if he were elected.

His answer was predictable, and hailed Sir Sadiq Khan's "good plans" on transport and housing.

He added that the pair would work together, and hit out at the Tories - exactly what you would expect.

When pressed on whether he would ensure the capital got more funding, an issue Sir Sadiq had been vocal about, he gave a non-answer.

In an attempt to shed light on Starmer's life in London - he is MP for Holborn and St. Pancras - we asked him which was his favourite pub.

The Pineapple in Kentish Town is a "very, very good pub", he replied.

"You know, we've been going there for many, many years now."

He was going to end his answer there, before I asked what exactly he liked about it.

The future PM said: "It's just a great local pub.

"It's our local pub, and everyone who's been there knows it's one of the best."

He could not muster up a single reason.

This is all I got out of him.

As I attempted to ask one final question about what he would do about the levels of violent crime in the city, he was coaxed away by his staff, in the manner of an elderly man in a home being moved around by care staff.

A proper prime minister in waiting would have been eager to answer one more question - whatever it was about - and put across their arguments ahead of a national poll.

He seems a good chap who genuinely wants to help people, but I left the press event that day thinking that, instead of the person needed to lead the country out of the doldrums, I had met an empty, benign model of the Slogan Sayer 3000.