I am invariably grateful to have grown up in a country where most decent and right-minded people think charisma is some kind of embarrassing infectious disease.
It makes the task of choosing our leaders far simpler than it otherwise might be.
My American friends, for instance, face the bizarre and dispiriting task of choosing the candidate they would prefer to go for a beer with, amid election campaigns that seem to last longer than most European governments.
The French, meanwhile, must judge who has the fortitude and good humour to endure five years as the embodiment of everything they hate about their country and themselves. Emmanuel Macron is unusual for having won the honour twice.
But the British, having repented of our own regicidal sin, are usually content with inoffensive dreariness from the first among His Majesty's loyal servants.
The rare exceptions who emerge in times of crisis are often brought low by their penchant for the dramatic.
Sir Keir Starmer is in no such danger. However his career ends, it will not be as a consequence of his irrepressible dash.
His meeting with EU leaders in Brussels on Monday – the first such gathering to include a British premier since the country left the bloc in 2020 – produced little in the way of real news.
There were no great announcements, just cordial mood music and broad commitments to European defence that even most Brexiteers would accept.
Much the same can be said of the appearance by Britain's Europe minister, Nick Thomas-Symonds, at the annual EU-UK forum the following day.
What did he say? Nobody cares. The point is he and commissioner-for-life Maroš Šefčovič seem to be getting along just fine.
None of this means there aren't substantive talks going on behind the scenes. Set your watch for some kind of agreement this spring on visa arrangements for young Brits and Europeans.
But this is what normal diplomacy looks like.
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