Rudd is touchingly honest, and extremely funny, about his own struggles. Like many middle-class Englishmen he picks self-deprecation as his default mode. Anecdotes about his smart thermostat, battles with “the cloud” and a series of gory accidents he treats, at the time, as a minor inconvenience are relayed with tragicomic panache. Occasionally there’s a sense of trying slightly too hard to entertain, with the tone edging from the arch to the flip. Occasionally he tortures his metaphors and feels the need to point this out. Self-conscious irony can be another middle-class habit that’s hard to break.