“Whatever happened to that ‘bloody difficult woman’?” I ask Theresa May as we speed through London in the back of her armoured Jaguar.

A red box embossed in gold with the words “Prime minister” on the seat between us is a reminder of her power; a bottle of Lucozade reminds me we are led by a woman living with a serious medical condition — type 1 diabetes — who needs to avoid sugar lows.

The prime minister laughs at my question, a sound heard more often away from the microphones and cameras than in front of them. “She’s still there,” she says, “but I think there’s a difference between those who think you can only be bloody difficult in public and those who think actually