Crying out for some TV glamour, or maybe bush-tucker trialsAdam KR

As someone who watches both Question Time and Keeping up with the Kardashians regularly, I have often lamented the lack of opportunity to bring these two realms together, complementary as they so clearly are.

But, a few weeks ago, in an interview which will echo through the ages, David Cameron revealed to Heat magazine that he was the thirteenth cousin of reality star Kim Kardashian-West.

This means a number of things. Firstly, we have finally heard our Prime Minister say the name “Kardashian”, and it was as weird as we ever could have imagined. Secondly, some poor sod at Tory HQ was given the job of searching David Cameron’s name on Ancestry.com, under instructions to find “someone big”. (Him off of Corrie? Nope. That one from that band? Nope. Her with the bottom? Gold.) Thirdly, and most importantly, this means that the Conservatives believe the Kardashians to be the way to the electorate’s collective heart.

And, on this point, we happen to agree – although perhaps not for the same reasons. While Cameron was, presumably, intending to show Britons that he is SO down with them, what he actually did was solve a problem that politicians have been scratching their heads over since they last drew swords in parliament. (Probably).

It’s no secret that British voters are, as a whole, a tad disenfranchised. The last General Election, in 2010, saw voter participation at 65.1 per cent. A UK turnout of 35.4 per cent for the 2014 European Parliament elections put the number of voters below the viewer ratings of some X Factor finals.

If people would generally prefer to watch fancy karaoke than have a say on matters which impact upon their lives, something must be done. And perhaps we should be looking to Simon Cowell for inspiration. Or Ant and Dec. Or the entire E! Network. If reality TV is so able to draw in the nation, then perhaps it could also teach politics – which, for its part, seems to have a knack for repelling the nation – a lesson or two.

So, as we enter the final fortnight of campaigning, I want to see the candidates channelling Cameron’s newly-discovered relation with some good old-fashioned pandering to the people. How much more exciting would that seven-way leaders’ debate have been, if presented by Tess Daly and Claudia Winkleman, and featuring glittery Lycra and cheeky Charlestons. Strictly Come Politics? I’d watch that.

And then there’s ITV’s new show, Ninja Warrior UK. If we’re happy to judge a prospective leader on his ability to eat a bacon sandwich with grace (the only person capable of which may be the PM’s thirteenth cousin herself), then I don’t see why we can’t just give the candidates helmets, and ask them to swing from rope nets over a pool of freezing water. Finish the course – win a seat. Simple.

Local hustings could go a bit Britain’s Got Talent, with spectators using buzzers to make any displeasure known. Candidates would declare, with a tear in their eye, “This means the world,” before being sent home by the buzzer-happy electorate.

Or, stick them in a house and watch things get ugly, Big Brother-style. Voting would be by text, with a long process of emotional evictions. Miliband would be thrown by the kitchen. (Only one?!) Cameron and Clegg would buckle under the pressure and have it out in the smoking area. TV gold.

While I’d like to keep TOWIE’s Amy Childs as far from Question Time as possible – and I am (mostly) not suggesting forcing ballroom dancing on the various party leaders (Farage in a sparkly leotard is something nobody wants to see) – with turnouts as low as they are (particularly among youth), it is clear that politicians are failing to make the Election exciting. And this is a failure indeed.

So, until this stops being the case, we must be prepared to do it ourselves – to create our own excitement around poll day. If politics seems dull, we have to tell ourselves that it’s interesting, just long enough to put our cross in the box. If parliament looks monotonous and bland, we’re simply going to have to pretend otherwise for now. Until someone can truly convince Britain that voting is exciting, we’re all just going to have to fake it.

And if that means imagining Nicola Sturgeon eating a witchetty grub in the jungle, then so be it.