Georgie porgie is a sheer pleasure to draw. Those narrowed, obsidian eyes which put one in mind of raisins in raw cookie-dough and peer out from the perpetual shadow of a brow furrowed with haughty suspicion. The abundant, fish-bellied cheek-flesh wrapped in sallow skin which makes him look at once corpulent and cadaverous. The sneering, thin-lipped mouth permanently puckered into a posture of petrified disdain. And the crowning distinction – a source of eternal joy for Telegraph cartoonist Christian Adams – that distended, bulbous nose jutting out like a brace of swollen bollocks and the base of a mini ski-jump. Sort of.
Also he’s the Chancellor of the Exchequer.