The opportunity to see him up close, in a non-confrontational arena, seemed like the perfect opportunity to form my own opinion about Corbyn, away from the din of public opprobrium. I desperately wanted to find a man whose presence and words would shatter the parody of him that emerges through the media filter.

But I did not.

Varoufakis’ questioning was as gentle as it is possible to be, the precise opposite of a Humphrys grilling, but it felt like watching a loving father toss balls very gently to a toddler who drops every one. Whatever the topic, Corbyn’s needle fell into the same groove about inequality. When he was asked how he was bearing up under the stress of his job, he talked about inequality. When asked why his party wasn’t ahead in the polls, he talked about inequality.