Friends: The One Where the Dog Leads But growth is up to 1.4 per cent and it'll be 2.4 per cent next year! George protested. Unemployment's down to 7.6 per cent. Inflation's just 2.2 per cent. Crosby rolled his eyes. For Pete's sake, George, stop throwing numbers at me. Didn't you see the news about your education system? Poms are so thick they make Skippy the Bush Kangaroo look like Einstein's freaky marsupial lovechild. They don't pay any attention to percentages. They can't even count to a hundred! "Oh God... you're right," Dave gasped. He looked around, nervously, as if terrified of being overheard. "And the other thing about, you know, 'ordinary people," is, I don't think they really like us." Eu-bloody-reka! The penny's dropped. Listen, I've been through the polling data and here's what it says. Everyone north of the Watford Gap services hates you, just on principle, and the Scots hate you even more. Women used to like you but now they hate you, because you're smug, posh, condescending and you've got no idea of the price of bread. "Not so!" said Dave, indignantly. I bought some Organic Fruit Bread at Daylesford Farm Shop and it was only £4.49. Very reasonable, I thought. Which proves my point. So what are we going to do? Dogs. Crosby nodded in George's direction. Specifically, his dog. What, Lola? George asked. That's the one. Look, where I come from, any bloke seen with a little white Bichon Frisé would be marked down as a right woolly-woofter. But we've focus-grouped Lola and she's scoring sky high, particularly with women. So from now on, whenever you're seen in public, George - G20 summits, EU meetings - Lola goes with you. Next Budget, she's sitting next to you on the dispatch box. Will that help? The more attention they pay to Lola, the less they'll notice you. That has to be a plus. And if all else fails, I've got an election poster that's worth a million votes. "Really," Dave piped up. What does it say? Vote Tory, or the dog gets it.