It shouldn't matter what you're called; only what your policies are. Unfortunately, in the current climate of personality politics, politicians' names play a significant role.

They could even have an impact at the ballot box — and that could especially be true for ScoMo.

I've written before how a politician's name — and its malleability to a witty nickname — can have a disproportionate effect on their legacy or reputation.

It's not vacuousness; our brains are wired to recall rhyme and humour more readily than an inventory of a minister's prosaic achievements in office, or policies they're selling ahead of an election.

If an MP's name lends itself to a rhyming pun, an ironic distortion or a catchy insult, they'll primarily be remembered for the event that coined the nickname. One example is "Thatcher, Thatcher, milk snatcher!", coined after Britain's first female prime minister revoked free milk for school kids while education minister.

But it can also work the other way around.

Although most nicknames are sardonic in tone — born from a satirical critique of a politician's failings — an MP's cute nickname could work in their favour.

The cute portmanteau

ScoMo, the nickname for our new Prime Minister, has truly caught on. The media is using it and his colleagues use it affectionately. The ABC is even publishing articles all about it. It's getting to the point of critical mass.

It uses the linguistic device of the portmanteau — a blended word.

Some linguistic purists may get hot and bothered by this, disputing it isn't a full portmanteau because neither of the two blended words is used in full (as it is, say, with brunch — the portmanteau meal stealer).

Welcome to the thrilling world of linguists and their debates! I'd therefore coin ScoMo an abbreviated rhyming portmanteau; the rhyme arguably making it even more memorable.

John Hajek, the University of Melbourne's Professor of Languages, says: "These shortened names are designed to be playful and to appeal to a younger voter.

"It can have the effect of making ScoMo seem younger and more with it.

"Of course the challenge is having a name that can be shortened and still sound appealing."

During the leadership spill, some reporters were even calling Peter Dutton "PDutt". ( AAP: Lukas Coch )

The problem, I'd argue, with this abbreviated rhyming portmanteau is that it makes our new Prime Minister seem approachable, relatable — cuddly even.

It hides the fact that this is a man who campaigned against equality for LGBTQI people (he voted against marriage equality), came up with the deeply unpopular corporate tax cuts policy and sneered at Bill Shorten for wearing an "ill-fitting suit". Not so cute.

During the leadership spill, some reporters were even calling Peter Dutton "PDutt".

It may work well for J-Lo and T-Swizzle, but for a politician as hard-headed as Mr Dutton, it just sounds like a clinging attempt to make a divisive politician sound cool.

Nick Enfield, Professor of Linguistics at the University of Sydney, says Scott Morrison is a "totally bland" name and ScoMo adds some Hollywood glitz to his name, mentioning the trend popularised by Jennifer Lopez — "it transforms it into it a marked name".

But he isn't sure about ScoMo for two reasons.

"People are sensitive about the associated sounds of words," he says.

"And it's a short path from ScoMo to scum. Also, that informality can backfire — it allows greater freedom to disparage someone

"He's supposed to be a statesman, a leader of a nation — ScoMo sounds un-prime ministerial."

Men of the people

Bob Hawke contrasted with Robert Menzies in a classic Labor vs Liberal, modern vs conservative binary. ( ABC: Four Corners )

From the 1980 and '90s onwards, politicians began embracing their shortened names to brand themselves as human and relatable rather than out of touch.

Contrast Bill Clinton (christened William Jefferson Clinton) with the shortest-serving US president, William Henry Harrison (who died of pneumonia 31 days into his term).

Or Tony Blair (christened Anthony Charles Lynton Blair) juxtaposed with one of his prime ministerial predecessors Anthony Eden, who served 1955-57.

The same logic juxtaposes Bob Hawke (full name: Robert James Lee Hawke) with Robert Menzies in a classic Labor vs Liberal, modern vs conservative binary.

Ditching their formal, longer names was a campaign strategy that said: we're men of the people. Like your next door neighbour. You can trust us.

If such logic applies, why then doesn't the ultimate man of the people, Anthony Albanese, rebrand to Tony?

Two good reasons — he already has his "pally, you can trust me" abbreviated nickname ("Albo"), but also he has an alliterative name.

Having the same consonant for your first and surnames makes your name catchy and memorable.

Harold Holt was both alliterative and became rhyming slang for "bolt" ("doing a Harold Holt"). ( National Archives )

Harold Holt was both alliterative and became rhyming slang for "bolt" ("doing a Harold Holt") — because of his sudden disappearance after going for a swim on the beach.

Again, it can work both ways. Australia's first PM, Edmund Barton, had been called Toby for much of his life.

This led to the nickname Toby Tosspot, because of his love of the good life (long lunches and fine wines).

Our second prime minister, Alfred Deakin, benefited from an alliterative nickname "Affable Alfred", coined because of his courteous manner.

Certainly not something ScoMo could be accused of when he sneers at the poorly tailored fit of other people's suits.

The 19th prime minister of Australia, John Gorton, was nicknamed "Jolly John" for his quirky sense of humour, eccentric turn of phrase and erratic behaviour during office.

Grandiloquence veering on vaingloriousness

Only JFK tends to pull off the "tripartite initialism", perhaps because of his popularity, progressiveness, youth and tragic end. ( NASA: John F Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum )

In America, those presidents who are best remembered tend to be known by the tripartite initialism — the three letters that make up their name.

It tends to add a grandiloquence veering on vaingloriousness to their name; only JFK tends to pull it off, pertaining, perhaps, to his popularity, progressiveness, youth and tragic end.

In the UK, where class divisions still plague politics and society, the Tory cabinet of largely privately educated millionaires was satirised in 2016 when a formula to calculate your Tory name went viral.

It mocks the class divisions that sees the Labour Party traditionally full of people with names like Bob and Cat and Emily, whilst the Tories have far grander, multisyllabic names which they insist upon being used in full.

The formula goes like this: your Tory name is the first name of a grandparent + the name of the first street you lived on, hyphenated with your first headteacher's surname.

Mine is Robert Poplar-Rose.

It's a far cry from ScoMo.

Gary Nunn is a freelance journalist who specialises in writing about language.