The ninth secretary-general of the United Nations sits in a room on the 38th floor of the UN tower in New York, and waves his hand at a collection of white bone china plates, embossed with the blue UN logo.
“I am terribly sorry — the food is lousy,” he says. “Really lousy.”
I look at him, silhouetted against the New York skyline, and chuckle. In this rare moment of tartness, António Manuel de Oliveira Guterres has hit the mark. For the previous hour, we have been having lunch in his private dining room, and the food was indeed lousy: a dull salad, bland white fish and a stodgy pie. Dull, bland and stodgy: words that might on a bad day apply to the UN.
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