Nick Clegg – currently Britain's 7,358th most popular public figure, sandwiched between Maxine Carr and the Go Compare tenor – has written an article for the Sun in which he bravely stands shoulder-to-shoulder with a shamefully overlooked, uniquely burdened segment of our population.

And he's obviously given the matter plenty of thought.

"Now more than ever, politicians have to be clear who they are standing up for," he writes. "Be in no doubt, I am clear about who that is."

Who? Ethnic minorities? The poor? The disabled? The original lineup of Gerry and the Pacemakers? Beekeepers? Milkmen? Necrophiles? Yeomen?

No. They can all piss off. Because Cleggsy Bear has someone else in mind. But despite claiming to be "clear about who that is", it's a group he defines in the vaguest, most frustrating terms possible – almost as if he doesn't really know what the hell he's going on about.

He's on the side of "Alarm Clock Britain", apparently. Yeah. You know: Alarm Clock Britain. Stop staring blankly at me. Alarm Clock Britain! It's everywhere!

"There are millions of people in Alarm Clock Britain," Clegg writes. "People, like Sun readers, who have to get up every morning and work hard to get on in life."

Basically, Alarm Clock Britain consists of people who use alarm clocks. That counts me out, because I wake each morning to the sound of my own despairing screams. Which I guess makes me part of Scream Wake Britain – a demographic Clegg has chosen to ignore. There are millions of people in Scream Wake Britain, and approximately half of them voted for him.

Still, it's undeniable that millions of Britons use alarm clocks, so it's nice to know someone at the heart of government is prepared to speak up on their behalf. We are yet to discover Clegg's stance on Toothbrush Britain (Britons who use toothbrushes), or Bum Wipe Britain (Britons who use toilet paper), or Newtonian Physics Britain (Britons subjected to the law of gravity), but I think it's fair to assume he's on their side too.

Which is not to say Alarm Clock Britain is an amorphous group with no boundaries whatsoever. Students, for instance, are notorious for waking up late, so they're definitely excluded, which is just as well since the average student trusts Clegg about as much as I'd trust a hammock made of gas.

Anyway, Clegg goes on to pepper the phrase Alarm Clock Britain throughout the rest of the article as often as he can, as though it's some kind of transformative mantra, in the apparent belief that the more he repeats it, the more we'll identify with it. He even managed to slip it into TV interviews, telling BBC News that he could understand why "the people of what I like to call Alarm Clock Britain" are pissed off about bankers' bonuses (not that he promised to actually do anything about it – one of the benefits of aligning yourself with an indistinct cluster of people is that claiming to feel their pain is often enough).

The trouble is that apart from Clegg, no one's talking about Alarm Clock Britain (unless, like me, they're mocking him in print), so his attempt to seed this spectacularly meaningless catchphrase into the national conversation merely comes across as desperate.

It reminds me of a heartbreaking Peanuts comic strip in which Charlie Brown, in a rare moment of unguarded candour, tells Lucy he wishes he had a better nickname.

"I've always wanted to be called Flash," he says. "I hate the name Charlie. I'd like to be real athletic so that everybody would call me Flash. I'd like to be so good at everything that all around school I'd be known as Flash."

Lucy stares at him for a bit before laughing out loud, incredulously cackling the name "FLASH?!?" a few times, before running off to share this hilarious news with the rest of the gang. Charlie Brown is left standing in the frame on his own, looking as suicidal as it's possible for a circle with dots for eyes to look.

Still, it's not as if Clegg's been the only one trying to attach a preposterous name to a group of potential voters. Unstoppable political dynamo Ed Miliband recently tried appealing to "The Squeezed Middle", which sounds like a frighteningly nonspecific sandwich filling, but is, in fact, precisely the same group as Alarm Clock Britain – middle-income households too rich to rely on benefits, too poor to shrug off VAT rises. As if this group didn't have enough to contend with, they now have to face the ignominy of their parliamentary representatives failing to rustle up a media-friendly pigeonhole term that defines them. Maybe Cameron could enter the fray, and start calling them "The Nameless Ones" or just "Thingy People".

Or "Thingy Things". "Things with Feet". "Feety Folk". Yes! Only when our leaders outline their desire to walk a mile in the shoes of Feety Folk Britain will we appreciate how much they truly value us.