And I think it’s perfectly clear that by run out it’s meant that the impact of a squabbling stage packed with political leaders just doesn’t cut the electoral mustard any more. Seven different people representing a myriad of variable opinions on a whole host of topics is simply too many. I’m not saying that more should have skipped out on proceedings (even though Mrs May denigrated the importance of the televised debate she deemed it of sufficient significance that she required representation. Step in recently bereaved Amber Rudd, seriously her dad died on Monday).
The Republican nominee debates (which, admittedly I didn’t actually bother to view but I imbibe enough of the late night offerings of America to know how it went down) proved that the winner of these things is the person who’s prepared to shout the loudest. How is President Trump working for everyone? Rumblings of impeachment getting louder by the day? How shocking. It’s clear that if you crowd the field you’ll lose any chance of coherence and the whole thing turns into an undignified shouty mess with the same jibes about people not being bothered to attend getting rapidly wearing.
Rather than complaining though, I do in fact have a solution. Group stages. This way you can open things out to even crazier fringe parties. Come on, if there was a televised debate that included the Monster Raving Loony Party you’d tune in. You know you would. So have a random draw to determine the initial face offs and keep going until you have a sane and sensible final for people to place bets on. Even if it ends up being between Plaid Cymru and… oh I don’t know, the Greens (I know, terribly unlikely that UKIP wouldn’t shove its way to the front of this sort of hypothetical situation).