AT last I get to meet the man who brought us the five-bladed razor. Just what the modern world needed.

“Well, it does give you a fantastic shave,” says Alan Lafley, global chief executive of Procter & Gamble (P&G) and manufacturer of the Gillette Fusion razor — the best a man can get. Oh, come on. Most of us, back in the mists of time, were happy with two blades. Lafley, pin-neat, affable and very well-shaven, just smiles.

“Okay, sometimes it goes beyond ‘need’ to being something you just want,” he drawls. Then he laughs as he picks another sandwich from the platter in front of us.

Lafley, with spiky, white hair and open-neck shirt, is something of a surprise. Squeezing me in during a nine-hour stop-over in Britain — I am sandwiched between meetings with Tesco and his local team — he is so far removed from the old “Proctoid” reputation of P&G’s uptight management that you cannot help but warm to him.

An American East Coaster, schooled in Chicago, he took over at the soap-powder giant six years ago amid profit warnings. Since then he has turned P&G round, pushing it upmarket in the West and downmarket in developing economies, concentrating resources in its billion-dollar brands.

He has also completed three acquisitions: Clairol, Wella and, earlier this year, Gillette. That £30 billion (€44.5 billion) purchase confirmed P&G’s status as the world’s biggest consumer-goods company — with brands including Fairy Liquid, Ariel, Bold, Flash, Pampers and Tampax — and the world’s biggest advertiser. Most importantly, Lafley has tried to make P&G more innovative and outward-looking.

And to meet, he’s a charmer. He slips into the modest meeting room at P&G’s British base in Weybridge, Surrey, without fanfare or fuss. No retinue, no notes, just an impish “hello” and an informal manner that belies his position as one of the most powerful businessmen on the planet.

Later he tells me about his time in the US Navy, under the Vietnam draft, running the retail and service operation at an airbase in Japan. Like the base in Joseph Heller’s Catch 22? “Yeah, yeah. I am Milo Minderbinder,” he cries, citing the novel’s mercenary mess officer who would do anything to cut a deal. “That was my job,” he smiles, “and nothing much has changed.”

Beneath the easy schmooze, however, you can detect a steely discipline that tolerates no slip-ups. Like his preference for his initials AG over his first name, he doesn’t mess about. He forbids long meetings, hates PowerPoint displays, and encourages executives to discuss, rather than just present points of view. He also works out in the gym every day — probably why he looks 10 years younger than his 59 years — and when there’s no gym, like that morning in his Geneva hotel, he gets up at 5am and does 20 minutes in his room.

That combination of rigour and probing has boosted P&G’s performance and underpinned its integration of Gillette.

“I have never been involved in an execution that’s been more complex and difficult,” says Lafley. “$11 billion [€8 billion] of Gillette sales combined with $57 billion of P&G business, 30,000 employees combining with 100,000 at P&G, on the ground in 80 countries, selling in 160. It’s been an incredible amount of work by an incredible team.” Will it hit the promised revenue and cost synergies of $16 billion? He nods. “I am cautiously optimistic.”

Academics who have worked with Lafley say his approach is transforming the business. “He is different from chief executives of other major companies,” says Professor Roger Martin, dean of Rotman Business School in Toronto, who advises Lafley on strategy. “Most are only comfortable in big, set-piece meetings. He is a read-and-react guy. And that has a pervasive impact all through the organisation.”

That more flexible approach is now infusing P&G, headquartered in Cincinnati, Ohio, and once famous for its conservative culture. Boston-based Gillette, with its Right Guard, Oral-B and Duracell brands, takes P&G into new growth areas.