The list of members of government who I’ve interviewed is not very impressive. Having been a Paris correspondent for the Dutch press during the last six years, I’ve had exclusive interviews with former Prime Minister Alain Jupp and Finance Minister Christine Lagarde (when she was only Minister of Foreign Trade). I’ve also spoken briefly to a couple of Dutch ministers of foreign affairs and I’ve guided the Housing Minister of our little kingdom through a run-down suburb not far from Paris. Let’s not forget the interview I had with the Romanian Minister of Francophonia. Not only does he exist, I even have his mobile phone number.

Last month, two new names were added to my list. In Reykjavik, I met the Finance, Fisheries and Agriculture Minister (just one person who goes by the name of Steingrimur – Icelanders don’t really use family names) and the Business Minister of Iceland. Maybe you remember the TV presenter Bob Ross, who used to say anyone could paint? In Iceland, as I discovered, anyone can be a minister. Which is, I suppose, for this era in which many people claim to feel alienated from their politicians, not really a bad thing.

But still, does a country that has become one of the symbols of the current international crisis need a finance minister who doesn’t know by heart whether his country needs two or ten billion dollars (“or was it euros”) in order to get the economy back on track? “All those numbers,” he told me. “I think it’s 2.1 billion dollars, but it’s still early in the morning.”

Let me quickly describe, for the sake of comparison, the circumstances of an interview with Ms. Lagarde. I was invited to the huge Ministry of Finance and Economic Affairs at Bercy in Paris. Her office was bigger than my apartment back then, and there were two people with her: it was three on one. I had to send a list of questions a week before the interview.

Then Iceland. A Dutch colleague and I wanted to speak to Johanna, the new Prime Minister and the first openly homosexual head of government in the entire world. She was not available, but with the same phone call, we did get appointments with the other two Ministers.

At the Icelandic Finance Ministry, there is no security. A small reception leads to a tiny waiting room with some magazines that you might read at the barbers. The Minister receives visitors just in the next room. Steingrimur appeared without any spokesman or adviser, so this time my colleague and I had the numerical majority. He had a coffee and on the table, there was a jug of water with plastic cups, but we were not offered anything.

During the interview, we had the impression that the Minister was feeling a bit insecure about our questions. At one point, we thought he had an asthma attack when he took a small box out of his pocket which he lifted to his nose. It appeared to be snuff tobacco. The problem was that he didn’t succeed in sniffing all of the tobacco. For about ten minutes, we interviewed a finance minister with a bit of tobacco hanging out of his left nostril. He seemed aware of this, but couldn’t really do much about it.

“Poor little Iceland,” he called his country a couple of times, because many people blame the country for bad management of its banking sector, which resulted in many people in the UK, Germany and Holland lose their savings. Poor little Iceland, I thought, with a finance minister who can’t remember numbers and who could learn a great deal about behavior from various French homeless people I’ve interviewed.