LAKE WINNIPESAUKEE, N.H.  Stung by an internal poll showing a majority of voters find him to be “artificial,” billionaire buyout king Mitt Romney huddled last night with high-priced consultants for an eleventh-hour image makeover as presidential primary season nears.

“Look natural–you mean like this?”

“Mitt’s going about this the way he would tackle any problem,” said analyst Mark DePari of Opinion Research, which conducted the phone survey.  “He’s hiring the best people in the sincerity and authenticity space to make sure people believe he’s for real.”

The rump group ordered pizza and vanilla Cokes for an all-night session at Romney’s vacation home here, and the candidate known to luge and curling fans as The Man Who Saved the 2002 Winter Olympics opened the floor to suggestions and criticisms.

“We worked all night to get that one strand to hang down.”

“You may want to consider sticking to one position,” said Todd Dromke, a senior consultant with a long list of candidate clients on his resume.

“At a time,” Romney asks, appearing puzzled, “or like, forever?”

“Good question,” notes Scott Geary, a “facilitator” brought in to lead the discussion.  “Somebody–anybody?”

“Most non-politicians take one position on a given issue and hold it for a really long time,” says Russ Alison, a junior member of the team who flips through a thick spreadsheet as if to underline that his assertion is backed up by research. 

“I paid good money to get these ordinary people to stand behind me.”

“Bo-ring,” Romney says as he picks through the pizza selections.  “Who the hell ordered anchovy?” he asks.

“Dirty tricks by Gingrich,” Dromke says as he throw the offending box into the garbage.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that lock of hair that dangles down as if it’s out of place–it looks a little . . .” Dromke begins, then hesitates.

“What?  What’s the matter with it–don’t hold back,” Romney says as he returns to the “great room” sofa with a paper plate loaded down with two pieces from the pepperoni and green pepper with onion boxes.

“I don’t know–calculated?” Dromke says, tempering candor with diplomacy.

“Okay,” Romney barks to a staffer in the arm chair next to him:  “Send a memo to everybody on the team: Starting today, my hair must be completely mussed up before all personal appearances.”

“Seriously?  You want to see my Joe Cocker imitation?”

“Good, that’s good, we’re getting somewhere now,” says Geary.  “Anything else?”

There is silence in the room, and an air of tension as group members hesitate to put their finger on the GOP elephant in the room.  Finally, Alison clears his throat and begins.  “Mr. Romney, I think . . .”

“Please call me ‘Mitt’ kiddo,” the candidate says beaming rays of sympathy for a political tyro towards the young man.

“Well, I prepared this glossary of American slang for you to take with you when you meet with voters under the age of . . . like 80,” Alison says, cringing a bit as he hands a laminated plastic sheet to the candidate.  “One side has terms that are pretty current, and the other has expressions that have . . . sorta, gone out of fashion.”

Romney scans the sheet, which looks like a football coach’s sideline game plan, and his face darkens.

“Lee Strasberg taught me everything I know about method acting.”

“You mean . . . I can’t say ‘jeepers’ anymore?”

“It’s fine in nursing homes and assisted living facilities,” Dromke says apologetically.  “Anywhere else it will go over like a . . . “

“Lead balloon?” Romney asks with a smile that disappears when he realizes no one is laughing.

“Right, right–or a pregnant pole vaulter,” Dromke says affably.  “That used to be a big one.”

“Okay–is that it?” Romney asks sharply, his CEO instincts telling him he’s focused enough on the subject and it’s time to move on.

“You think you’ve got it down?” Dromke asks somewhat doubtfully. 

“Absolutely, I’m a quick study,” Romney replies.  “I ‘get it’–sincerity is key.”

“That’s the ticket,” Geary says.

“And if there’s ever an issue,” Romney says, reassuring the group, “I can always fake it.”