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“Gillette is a device designer, they are great engineers — shaving systems, electric toothbrushes,” he says. “We are biochemists, so we are going to combine that with their device manufacturing.”

Gillette’s Fusion wet razor, launched here last summer, with its over-specced design and battery-in-the-handle emitting “micropulses”, is symbolic of the new “Procter and Gadget” approach. Electrostatic dust mops, ultrasound stain removers, air-freshener machines that play discs of scent like a CD player — do we need these? Lafley grins. “We do them if you want them. But Procter & Gadget is a bit of an overstatement. We now do over $1 billion in devices, but we are $75 billion in total.”

Was the Gillette acquisition also about bulking up against the retailers? “No, I don’t think size matters. Leadership matters, but big’s never been good for its own sake.”

As for talk of a battle between manufacturers and retailers, especially over own-brands, the media is missing the point, he says. We are now in an era where the consumer leads. “Tesco is successful because it is responsive to consumers — you have more choice, you are more demanding and your standards keep rising.”

What about that difference between “need” and “want”? P&G has been stoking consumer desires for a century and a half. Isn’t it time it re-evaluated its impact, socially and environmentally? “We think a lot about how we touch and improve everyday life, but we’re realistic. We are not curing cancer, we are providing everyday household products that make life easier.”

That, of course, can cover a multitude of sins, such as flooding the world with disposable nappies that aren’t that easy to dispose of.

Lafley keeps his cool. “Yeah, I think we could do more on disposable nappies. But we are going to take sustainability to the next level.” He promises a “cradle to grave” audit of P&G’s impact on the environment.

Lafley was born into big corporate life. “I was a GE brat” he grins, “my father worked for General Electric, we moved every three to five years.” The eldest child of four, Lafley went straight into P&G after the Navy, via Harvard Business School, starting as brand assistant on Joy detergent. He worked his way up through laundry products, and headed P&G’s Far East operation and global beauty care before taking the top slot.

Becoming chief executive just as results slumped was terrifying, he admits. What had gone wrong? “We were trying to change way too many things too fast, to make P&G more competitive in the 21st century. The intention was good, and the strategic changes were good, but we couldn’t execute them.”

Lafley says he fixed P&G’s problems by doing what he always does: methodically breaking them down into small chunks, then building everything up again, and getting people talking. “I ran around with lists. This is what we do in seven days, in 30 days, in 100 days. That’s how I work.”

So will P&G just continue to gobble up its rivals, getting bigger and bigger, until some error bursts it in pieces? Lafley looks serious. “We don’t have a choice but to grow because the alternative doesn’t work. You could split it up. We have sold off businesses, well over a billion dollars worth.”

But it still has significant new areas to conquer. Anyway, he’s got to go, another meeting to shoehorn in. He wanders out to have his photograph taken, then piles a paper plate with sandwiches, smiles goodbye, and strolls off to cut his next deal. He makes it look so easy — Milo Minderbinder might want to take notes. I feel in urgent need of a shave.