Around the Commons he was an obscure figure, known really for only one thing: being the richest Labour MP.He did, though, get to know Mr Brown. Once the Shadow Chancellor’s pre- eminence alongside Blair was confirmed, Mr Robinson set to work. Robinson, according to a friend, believed Wilson had lacked a strategic approach. And importantly, in the light of his current role in Whitehall, Robinson felt Wilson failed to build bridges between the key characters around him.He was denied a government post under James Callaghan and spent the next 20 years in the political wilderness as a Labour right-winger. It was a brave decision for a young tycoon and one he probably regretted A month after the election, Wilson had resigned.

“Geoffrey is an active, energetic and sympathetic man, which is more than you can say for most of the directors in the British car industry. If only others would follow his lead,” wrote Benn.When the seat of Coventry North West fell vacant, Mr Robinson seized his chance. In his diaries, Tony Benn, who was Secretary of State for Industry in 1975, wrote how the “go-ahead” Jaguar boss was frustrated in his plans for expansion. Working alongside future commercial stars such as Sir Alastair Morton, later of Eurotunnel, and trying to sort out the mess that was British Leyland made him appreciate businessmen’s problems and turned him into a believer in the free market.He became BL’s finance controller and then chief executive of the state- owned Jaguar Cars He was 33.

After graduating in languages from Cambridge and in economics and history from Yale, in 1965 he had joined Labour’s research department. From there, he was sent to the Industrial Reorganisation Corporation, the engine-room for Harold Wilson’s “white heat of technology” revolution.Whatever zeal for corporatist government he had before he went to the IRC it was soon knocked out of him. To understand Geoffrey, said the friend, it is worth remembering he is not a typical politician.GEOFFREY ROBINSON made his name and sowed the seeds of his wealth during the Wilson years, when he was plucked from a back office at Transport House, Labour’s then headquarters. So, within seven years, he has vaulted from relative obscurity to become an important minister, charged with handling key planks of policy, host to the Prime Minister and owner of an influential weekly political journal.Such high political involvement is relatively recent: he despaired for Labour during the strife-torn Kinnock era, and, said one friend, even thought of leaving politics completely. He is not a passionate speaker, is not noted for his frequent Commons interventions, does not write many newspaper articles, and rarely appears on television or radio. His face, unlike many of his senior colleagues, is not instantly recognisable.For all his long years in parliament, Mr Robinson, 59, has come from virtually nowhere to the point where he is mentioned in senior Labour circles as a likely candidate for full Cabinet office in the first Blair reshuffle. The 1990 edition of Andrew Roth’s Westminster companion, Parliamentary Profiles, describes Mr Robinson as “rarely heard, low-profile” In 1988-89, notes Roth, he “did not make a single speech”.

Mr Robinson is thought to be hostile to the single currency, opposed to devolution and against proportional representation – all of which find favour with Mr Hargreaves and his journal.The “thought to be” is necessary, since it is impossible to say with certainty what Mr Robinson really stands for. Circulation of the historic magazine was at an all-time low – despite the growing popularity of Tony Blair – and it had a six-figure overdraft He saved it. Nevertheless, the impression remained that here was somone with an eye to the main chance. And, under Mr Robinson the magazine has changed, from being old Labour and critical of Mr Blair to being profoundly new Labour and broadly supportive.That is not to suggest that Ian Hargreaves, the editor appointed to turn round the magazine, is a mouthpiece for Mr Blair or for his owner’s ambitions Far from it. And, in a pattern that now seems familiar, until he became a minister, he possessed not one but two Daimlers, chauffeur-driven, of course.