We may not want to hear it, but Britain loves the idea of Donald Trump

After Mr Spock objects to this "romanticism about a ruthless dictator", Kirk observes: "We humans have a streak of barbarism in us. Appalling, but there, nevertheless … we can be against him and admire him all simultaneously."

You will not find a better explanation for why there is a quietly burgeoning respect for Donald Trump in Britain.

Polling company Opinium surveyed 2,000 people earlier this year. The results are fascinating.

Participants were asked what they thought of the US president's agenda on reducing migration, the environment, diversity, protectionism, energy independence and free speech, but they were not told that these were Trump's policies. The results were overwhelmingly in favour of the President's agenda.

The man is almost irrelevant, as the cognitive dissonance between Trump's election and conviction on 34 felony counts confirms. Americans were nonplussed enough to vote a felon in as commander-in-chief in record numbers. Brits do not like to acknowledge they like Trump freely, but love the idea of him in everything but his name.

Making the country great again, securing its borders, rolling back the frontiers of an incompetent state, draining the bureaucratic swamp and ending lunatic political correctness have underlying, naughty appeals.

They are policies centred, or certainly presented, as tackling entrenched issues. Trump's narrative messaging has universal appeal save for the man himself.

The mistake that Trump critics make is focusing on the President's personal qualities and not his policies. The appeal, even anecdotally when you listen to people in the UK, is that he does something to solve – as some see it – generational policy failings perpetuated by entrenched values, rules, and orthodoxy, which he views as in the way.

Since his inauguration on January 20, the President has used executive orders to rapidly jump-start his agenda, seemingly without regard for any potential obstacles in Congress or American political bureaucracy. But he is not a populist.

Trump's anti-establishmentarianism rhetoric has never translated into tearing down institutions. He will unlikely do so, even with Elon Musk heading the Department of Government Efficiency.

He disparages elites, but means elitist thinking, which Trump backers view as crippling meaningful policy change. Institutions and institutionalised thinking are very different, and his focus is on transforming the weltanschauung of a populace that thinks politics can no longer crack social and economic problems.

That extends into breaking historic global deadlocks and endorsing brazen solutions like rebuilding Gaza as a US-run "Riviera of the Middle East".

The President is a capricious, hedonistic thrill seeker. He is the policy equivalent of a one-night stand. Resolve the serious debate around women's rights and trans rights? No bother, ban the latter from participating in US women's sports.

Candidly strategise whether American foreign policy can or should serve as a bulwark against advancing Russian, Chinese and South American interests? Don't worry; scrap USAID and slap a hike in defence spending to 5 per cent of gross domestic product on Nato allies.

Populism strives to "appeal to ordinary people who feel that established elite groups disregard their concerns". The billionaire septuagenarian property magnate is hardly a modest, impoverished man of the people, but neither was any American president in the past 60 years, save for Richard Nixon.

Trump's appeal is that he has made himself into a man of action, a strategy made all the easier by President Joe Biden's physical and mental decline.

So what is he? Why do we secretly, perversely, rubberneck at what Trump is doing? Why do some call for more of his antics here?

The appeal is that Trump is a doer. He flails – and will flail again – when he eventually hits a legislative wall or runs out of things to give a drumhead decree on.

The President cannot be trusted internationally precisely because his rhetoric is a distraction, another game of wild card brinkmanship to get the outcomes he wants: that the Canadian and Mexican governments have yielded a tariff delay in exchange for border crackdowns is telling. Trump's appeal has everything to do with what he does, not who does it.

Calling Trump a populist does nothing to clarify his appeal. In the news media, the term "populism" is a catchword for all manner of political sins. It is generally presented as something to be feared and discredited on principle only and usually treats its adherents as self-serving political neophytes only interested in power.

The nationalist and imperialist elements of Trump's policies are seldom considered beyond their racism rather than viewed as a means to an end through control. Trump's foreign policy is gunboat diplomacy by another name.

Every politician is interested in power. Trump is a guilty pleasure because he implements fantastical and outrageous policies to tackle systemic issues, presenting these as issues that could have been solved sooner if only leaders had been braver and bolder.

There's a flavouring of jingoism, isolationism, demagoguery, and more than a hint of Juche with its strength through military, political, energy and economic independence.

People like action, they love anti-heroes, and they love impishness and mischievousness. It is in our nature to appreciate strongmen of history as men of action, however awful.

When it is another country's leader, when the impacts are at arm's length, it is much easier to call for the same quick-fix solutions at home.

Trump's presidencies are damn good television, but as he enters his imperialistic, American colossus phase, that charm may soon end.