General Elections Should Be More Like Total Wipeout

Later this month, Britain's first US-style televised pre-election debates, starring the leaders of the three main parties, will draw hefty audiences. But will these screen rows shake things up? You might see Brown's jowls quiver atop his starched collar more then they would on an average day in the Commons. And Cameron could lose poise points if he over mimics Tony Blair. Only Clegg will leave the fracas with tangible gains, namely a face that people no longer look at and wonder: "Who is that guy?"

We get the point. Letting the top dogs engage in some face-to-face, public gnashing will better inform our voting. Fair enough. But it's an unimaginative way to lull us out of electoral apathy.

Had we been consulted on format, we'd have suggested something a little more... gladiatorial, like our current favourite game show, Total Wipeout. Here, Top Gear's tiny Richard Hammond narrates pithily as members of the public lurch at a water-based assault course in Argentina. Amanda Byram stands on the sidelines to do the before and after interviews. She's sinewy, tanned and nails flirty disdain. Now imagine, instead of Barry, a plumber from Farnborough, Byram's post-course victim is a wheezing David Cameron. Or a mud-caked Chancellor of the Exchequer.

Total Wipeout is ripe for political adaptation. Last Christmas, we loved the hilarious celebrity specials, so why not ask Brown and his counterparts to snap on some spandex and prove themselves? Of course, you'd have to throw in the cabinet--real and shadow--to make it authentic Wipeout. Every episode sees dozens of inexplicably optimistic contestants face absurd, exhausting and occasionally insurmountable obstacles. So far no one has successfully bounced their way over the course's centrepiece: four giant, inflatable red balls. Failure here is inevitable and gloriously undignified, whether the jumper is a chiselled Greek statue or themselves a wobbly sphere.

Traditionally, Hammond and Byron pep up their commentary by slapping contestants with jaunty pet names ("Nice one bitey Norm! Next up, muffin top Mandy!") Imagine what they'd come up with for the Miliband brothers: "Look at Foreign Dave attack those Balls! He leaps, he flies... aaand, oh. Rubbish. Let's see if Climate Eddie weathers any better."

And so we say: never mind whether our prime ministerial candidates have what it takes to resuscitate the economy or keep their underlings' spending in check. How great would it be if the future leader of our nation faced the sucker punch wall and survived?

Other world leaders think nothing of using presidentially irrelevant attributes to point score, be it a model wife, a playgirl cabinet or a hypoallergenic dog. So let's make this our thing. Before election day, we'll fly the heavy hitters to Buenos Aires, then let them slip, splat and bounce their way into our hearts and minds.