BORIS Johnson had just been made honorary Australian of the Year by the Australia Day Foundation and this journalist was summoned to his office in central London to answer a critical question. 
There was the Tory government's move to limit visas for Australians, there was Britain's trade push into Asia and bi-lateral relations had been described by former foreign secretary William Hague as having been allowed to plunge to their worst levels in history.
But Boris's question was about none of those. "What ever happened to Lolly Gobble Bliss Bombs?" he asked, straight-faced. "I used to like those, you know; crunchy - and when I went back to Australia I couldn't find them on the shelves." Boris was yesterday appointed as Britain's Foreign Secretary and no doubt will give priority to answering his own question about the Aussie popcorn snack.
His appointment by Prime Minister Theresa   May is bold and she could easily have just left him - and his buffoonery - on the backbench. But "Brand Boris" has been one of Britain's greatest exports, one of the country's few politicians known worldwide just by his first name . . . and largely for antics that would have ended others' political careers long ago.
He has been a polarising figure in British politics and certainly as the chief Brexiteer in the referendum, particularly after he switched from being a Remainer. His scruffy blond mop is known for being all over the place, and his flip flopping on the issue was more than in keeping with that. But he's articulate, clever and engaging and, in a bonus for Australia, loves the country and has fought hard to reverse UK visa restrictions for Aussies.Johnson has several cousins living in Australia and after earlier visits, returned to Melbourne in the 1990s as a lecturer at Monash University. He counts Shane Warne as a friend and loves Kylie. He drinks beer and watches AFL when he can. In short, he's a larrikin and as an honorary Aussie, that can only be good for us.