Tory victory will be dependent on their very own Labrador puppy

I've just had a sneak preview of the first draft of next year's Conservative party election manifesto. It was a card left on my table at a restaurant in London W1. To spare the restaurant embarrassment (and because I'd like to go back) I'll conceal its identity. The card was what they call a tent card and it drew my attention to a new private dining room. It read, in full, 'Intimate but also formal, somewhat reminiscent of the gentlemen's clubs of this area but with a distinctive feminine touch.'

Like all such statements – and we've all seen dozens in planning documents and 72-deck PowerPoint presentations – there's a little something there for everyone. The trouble, of course, is that when you put in a little something for everyone, you risk ending up with nothing much for anyone. 'Yetism', as Stephen King repeatedly reminded us all, is the infallible sign of a flawed strategy. 'Full of flavour yet mild to the taste', 'Contemporary chic yet with traditional overtones', 'Premium quality yet at affordable prices', 'Roomy enough for the family weekend yet perfect for city parking'.

The advertisement for the restaurant's private room, while skirting round the word itself, simply reeks of yetism: intimate yet formal; like a gentlemen's club yet with a feminine touch. The reason that all such strategies are flawed is that, when reduced to mere words, they draw our attention to their innate improbability; they rub our noses in the stench of compromise.

Yetism sets out to convince us that we can have the best of both worlds while every iota of personal experience tells us we can't. Yetism emphasises irreconcilable qualities and exudes anxiety like an insecure comic: if that funny story didn't make you laugh, what about this one? What time would you like it to be?

When presented as starkly as they tend to be, yetisms not only fail to persuade us that we can have the best of both worlds, they leave us suspecting the worst of both. De-coded, 'Roomy enough for the family weekend yet perfect for city parking' strongly suggests a car that's still too small for the family's luggage while remaining a real bugger to park.

Where yetisms exist, it's almost always the consequence of indecision and greed. Many brands would be more than satisfied with a loyal 15 per cent of their respective markets. Terrified of missing out on any part of the other 85 per cent, they smooth off their own edges, dilute the base spirit and generally equivocate. There will be those in the client company who believe in the conversion model of marketing, and those who believe that extracting more money from existing users is the easier route; so there's got to be something in the strategy for both. 'Objective: to congratulate loyal users and persuade them to purchase more frequently whilst at the same time strongly appealing to current users of Brand X.' (Whilstisms are nothing other than slightly shamefaced yetisms.)

The Tory's first draft election manifesto will contain a great many yetisms and probably even more whilstisms. The party's policies, even when clear and comprehensibly articulated, often seem internally contradictory. 'Compassionate Conservatism' may not be an oxymoron – but the 'yet' is almost audible. How can a party so wholeheartedly in love with the NHS convincingly blame the existence of the state for the state we're in? And will they remain the only political group in the country to fail to acknowledge publicly that, just over a year ago, without the intervention of the state (and all the other states), the country would have experienced financial meltdown? And how does the word 'progressive' square with fox hunting and the sanctity of marriage?

When asked whether they agree with Ken Clarke or William Hague on this country's future relationship with the EU, how will the party answer? Yes and no, probably – and indeed vice versa.

SEEN TO BE PARTY OF THE PEOPLE

They need to reassure existing users and at the same time win back lapsed users, and at the same time win over non-users. They need to hint at the ruthless resolve of Thatcherism and at the same time reveal their bottomless concern for the socially deprived. They need to be seen to be the party of the people and at the same time have words of comfort for Sir Bufton Tufton. (The beady reader will have noted that the phrase 'at the same time' is nothing more than a disguised version of whilst which is itself nothing more than a disguised version of yet.)

That's why the first draft of the Conservative party's election manifesto will be torn up. Its internal inconsistencies will be all too laughably apparent. Even if they went unnoticed by the entire electorate, they would be seized upon with shrieks of joy by political editors and the campaign managers of all the other parties. So a new group of eager young researchers will be instructed to render those inconsistencies invisible: to smooth out the corners and dilute the base spirit. And eventually one of them will be inspired enough to remember Andrex.

In the public mind, strength and softness are antinomies: but only when presented, starkly, in words. By spelling out these properties, attention is drawn to their apparent incompatibility. A long time ago, Andrex tried the rational approach and coined the word 'stroft', a mechanical attempt to resolve the conflict, and it doesn't work. All it does, again, is emphasise the inherent improbability of the claim: there's a yet in there, longing to get out. ('Compassionervatism' wouldn't work either.)

As the Tories will undoubtedly come to realise, what they really, really need is their very own Labrador puppy. They need a symbol.

COMPLEX AND COMPLICATED IMPRESSIONS

Symbols can achieve what even the most evocative of words may fail to do. Because they work wordlessly, they invite no forensic analysis. They can convey complex impressions that, if articulated, might well be seen to challenge each other. That's what the Andrex puppy does – with never a hint of a yet or a whilst or an at the same time.

When New Labour abandoned its commitment to Clause 4, the last defining discriminator bit the dust. If the two major parties were to attract enough voters to achieve an overall majority, they needed to jostle for position in the middle of the road. Clear and consistent differences of class alignment or policy would be dangerously divisive. Now it's down to brand personality: and one that allows millions of individuals to imbue it with their own, often contradictory interpretations. No Marmite strategy for them.

Brand personality can never be argued; it can only be demonstrated; it can only be symbolised. Today, the only effective symbol left to a political party is its leader. Change not a word of its manifesto, and a Tory party led by Norman Tebbit would be a totally different brand from one led by David Cameron.

If they manage to conceal their inconsistencies and refrain from overt yetism, Cameron could well be their very own Labrador puppy.

I make this point, you understand, purely in the interests of understanding brands and not at all in the hope that it will be fulfilled.