The attack came well before the Chancellor had even stood up to deliver his Budget, widely trailed as good news for millionaires, who would finally see the back of their hated 50p tax rate.
So, of course, the politician whose opponents tried to characterise him as a chum of the jolly-well-off yesterday morning was not Mr Osborne nor even David Cameron but Ed Miliband.
The Labour leader was criticised by the Prime Minister for his decision earlier this month to attend a football match with the wealthy owner of a large club just hours after he had called in sick to a political rally. And in a Rolls-Royce, of all things.
The early skirmish did nothing to perturb Mr Miliband. He would have his revenge later.
There was genuine outrage on the Tory benches when he asked them to put up their hands if they were among the mega-wealthy who would benefit from Mr Osborne's tax cuts.
Only a few members of the Conservative front bench remembered to maintain their stony-faced expressions in the face of the Labour taunting.
Some appeared to be thinking, to paraphrase the imperious Maggie Smith as Lady Grantham in Downton Abbey, "Oh goody, let's talk about money".
Earlier, George Osborne had been subdued, almost monotone at times as he read out his Budget speech.
Initially at least, it appeared as if he was trying to make it as boring as possible. His low, deliberate voice would have made even the most monumental announcement sound like business as usual.
That so much of the speech had been well briefed for weeks failed to help matters.
The glass beside him held its usual water, as has been the drink of choice for chancellors in recent years, especially in these austere times. But perhaps he could have done with a glass of the more traditional whisky.
He certainly took a large gulp of water before he announced there would be a tax cut for the best off in society.
But as he continued laying out his plans it began to become apparent why he was talking in such a manner. He was trying to save his voice.
As he said that millions would be better off under his plans, he started to croak.
By the end of the speech it had become at times even raspy.
Mr Miliband later rounded on the Chancellor, accusing him of failing to say his own catchphrase, that "we are all in this together" when it comes to Budget cuts.
But, to be fair, his voice had got so bad he would have struggled to say anything more.
The Budget speech itself was quite brisk, at just under 60 minutes, a far cry from budgets in years gone by, some which carried on for hours.
If Mr Osborne became that garrulous he would have had to be carried out on a stretcher.
Later, Labour MPs would disregard his obvious problems and line up to accuse him of skipping over the most contentious part of his Budget, the point at which he announced that tax allowances for millions of pensioners across the country was to be frozen.
However, Mr Osborne appeared to get his own back on the Labour leader – making a joke at the expense of Mr Miliband and his Shadow Chancellor Ed Balls and how they were seated on the opposition benches.
Touching on the often remarked likeness between Mr Miliband and a certain well-loved animated character, he commented he was ordering a tax break to help retain the creative industries in the UK as he wanted to keep "Wallace and Gromit where they are".
If anything it was a surprise that the Chancellor did not take the analogy any further.
Perhaps he was only a politician making a point and not an actual fan of the franchise. If he was he would surely have played on the central drama at the opening of The Wrong Trousers, in which the two main characters are in a pickle because they have built up a large debt.
But then any reference to the duo's most famous film could in itself have raised some awkward questions.
For, if indeed, Balls and Miliband are Wallace and Gromit who would that make their opponent – the penguin and noted diamond thief Feathers McGraw?
Who indeed Gromit?