Try to imagine it. Ten years from now, Theresa May is making a speech in defence of the EU. She quotes Shakespeare, Einstein and Churchill. When she says “let me be clear”, she is a model of clarity. A woman with a vision. She talks passionately, intelligently and coherently for 30 minutes entirely off the cuff. She doesn’t even have any notes, let alone resort to using them. Or perhaps not … that might require a total personality transplant.

Yet absence does make the heart grow fonder. Ten years ago, Gordon Brown was a prime minister adrift. Indecisive, insecure, at times borderline shifty. Unloved by many in his own party – not to mention by the country as a whole – he looked to be a man out of time as he tried to navigate a way through the global financial crash. There were few tears shed when he lost the general election in 2010 and resigned as leader of the Labour party. Many would have been happy never to have heard from him again.

Since then, Brown has gone through something of a successful rehabilitation process and now appears a political colossus compared to the lightweights currently in charge. Someone you can almost believe when he claims to have solutions to breaking the deadlock in the Brexit negotiations and reuniting a divided nation. A man of integrity and gravitas. A saviour for troubled times.

Rising from his chair as he prepared to address the Institute for Government, Brown ignored the lectern to his right and stood centre stage. This wasn’t to be a piece of over-produced rhetoric. This was the essential Gordon. Gordon unplugged. He began by laying into the essential dishonesty of the government’s current position. A bad deal was still a bad deal even if it was marginally better than no deal.

May’s whole negotiating strategy had been based on getting a short-term temporary fix. On making it to the end of the day with as a few of her ministers resigning as possible. There was no long-term plan. As Churchill had said of his own party in the 1930s, the decision was not to take a decision. To resolve to be irresolute. And even if, by some unexpected mischance, the prime minister did manage to come up with a withdrawal deal she could get through parliament, all the difficult issues still remained. We would still be completely in the dark about what our long-term relationship with the EU would be.

Brown paused. Not to gather his thoughts, but for dramatic effect. He still knew how to work an audience, even if it was only a home audience. Nothing could be achieved without regaining the public’s trust. The problem of Brexit couldn’t be solved by Brexit itself. People needed to feel heard, to re-engage with the democratic process. What needed to happen first was that there should be a meaningful vote on both May’s deal and a no deal, not some kind of procedural fudge engineered by an enfeebled, beleaguered government.

Then should come a second referendum. Not necessarily in time to prevent the UK leaving the EU, but certainly giving everyone the right to rejoin it once the realities of the situation had become clear. With only David Cameron yet to declare – and frankly, who gives a toss what he thinks? – three of the four living former prime ministers had now called for a second referendum. As a final flourish, Brown insisted Shakespeare would have been a remainer at heart. Cry God for Gordon, England and St George!

As his voice faded into silence, many in the room began to experience an unusual feeling. Hope. Among a sea of idiots, there was still a grownup to be found. Quickly, though, reality kicked in. This was Gordon and there was no messiah. Theresa was still in charge and we were still heading inexorably for the cliff’s edge. But, hey. It had been nice while it had lasted.