and it didn't really work because everyone found it patronising. What we need is to get the Chancellor into a pub, enjoying a decent pint of beer with the proletariat. Like this:
On second thoughts, perhaps not. People don't seem to warm to George. Let's arrange a date in a pro-Tory brewery's tap bar so there aren't any inconvenient members of the public to cause any unpleasantness. Better still, let's hold it in a marginal constituency to give the cannon fodder a boost.
And lo! It came to pass that we lucky punters were blessed with a painfully awkward photograph of the Worst. Date. Ever.
What a shame that the symbolism doesn't quite work: usually it's the banks taking the piss out of him, but now he's managed to extract a pint from Banks's, the beer that tastes of…