My breakfast with Al Gore didn’t get off to a good start. Let me explain. The only time the former American vice-president was available for interview was very early. So we arranged to meet in the English Tea Room at Brown’s hotel in Mayfair.

I don’t need to remind you that Gore is a very important man. His documentary about climate change, An Inconvenient Truth, won an Oscar. He very nearly beat George Bush to the White House. Remember the Florida recount and the pesky hanging chads and you’ll remember how close the United States came to electing the man many Americans regard as the “best president we never had”.

The trouble was, I was interviewing him on behalf of a lads’ mag that I won’t name and which I suspect Gore’s people weren’t familiar with, which is why they agreed to a half hour slot.

First, I was slightly taken aback to find that Gore wasn’t as tall as I had imagined and rather rotund. More disarmingly, he was wearing make-up. It gave him an unintentionally camp look and made my opening question sound even more absurd.

“I was wondering, could you beat George Bush in a fist fight?”

He faltered briefly, then smiled and said: “Well, it’s certainly tempting to contemplate that question. But I think, as the vernacular would have it, I’m going to ‘not go there’.”

And he wouldn’t go there. At all. Okay, who would win a wrestling match? No. Did you pilfer a White House souvenir when you left? Not going there. Did you ever get President Clinton drunk? Forget it.

Not going there quickly became the theme of the interview, while in the background a stocky individual who could have been an assistant, bodyguard or secret service guy looked on.

Gore didn’t touch any of the food, a feat that must have taken considerable restraint given his obviously healthy appetite. Perhaps he didn’t want to disturb the make-up. Occasionally, after “not going there” he’d sup from a bottle of water and lick his lips.

In between the questions he’d smile and I’d think about what a complete oaf I was making of myself. Gore is untouchable and he knows it. He’s survived all the accusations of hypocrisy, even the ones that point out the colossal amount of energy he burns through while pottering round his 10,000 sq ft Nashville mansion. When you are Benevolence Personified, mud just doesn’t stick.

Recently, Gore has become one of the most influential men on the planet: a polished, drawling do-gooder with the kind of clout that Michael Moore once hinted at but failed to cash in on because he looked like a tramp. Hard to believe he was once derided in America for being the most boring man alive. Right now he is busy putting on a set of massive, global Live Earth concerts, the roadshow for which reaches London on Saturday.

Despite having fluffed the interview I left in awe of him. What Gore knows best is how to talk: he’s mastered that rare and mesmerising skill of getting a message across in a way that can leave no room for debate. It’s like a Jedi mind trick, and I believed every word.

Now, though, with hindsight and a hint of cynicism, I’m not so sure. Just put yourself in his shoes for a second. It’s 2000, and he’s just conceded defeat in the election race. His days in the limelight are numbered. I think Gore sat down and spent a long time reinventing himself and latching onto the ultimate noble cause.

I don’t doubt his sincerity about the environment, but could there be other factors at play here too? The man who is the 6-1 choice to be the Democrat candidate in 2008 left me with one solid answer in my notebook. “I have no plans to run for president,” he said with the look of a man who had every intention of doing exactly the opposite.

I’d vote for him if I could, if only to force Toyota into making a bulletproof Prius limo.

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