Lizzo glides into the boardroom of her London record label, looking every bit the superstar trying – but not too hard – to be anonymous. Huge, black, glittery sunglasses disguise her eyes, framed by a glorious sleek mane of hair; a black cloak is wrapped around her shoulders. She ignores my outstretched hand, instead majestically pulling my head into her bosom (she's 1.7m) for a half-hearted hug.

"I feel I'm gonna pass out," she exclaims. "It's so weird." She bends over and starts yanking at her snakeskin cowboy boots. "I'm gonna take this damn shoe off. Eurgh!"

The boots are