He came from over the hills — a perky young buck with a well-aimed side parting. He seemed familiar, in a distant sort of way — like a half-forgotten figure from your school days. The smile like a head boy at sixth form open day; the eager, wholesome ears; the lingering hint of a playground lisp; narrow shoulders and dubious lapels. Would look good with a biology textbook under his arm; handy with a jug of orange squash; not sporty, no, but eerily good at cross country; knows the librarian by her first name and sings competently in chapel. You’ve met Rishi Sunak before, even if you haven’t. And if you haven’t, you soon will.