KEY POINTS:
If I had to pick a winner out of the TV leaders debates, then TV3's Helen and the two Johns - Key and Campbell, that is - on Monday night would get my vote.
The TV3 set with its bilious green lighting seemed to better reflect the queasy
mood of the nation for Election 2008. And the effect of sticking the pair into what looked like a glasshouse seemed to curb somewhat that inclination to throw stones.
The herding cats prize goes to Campbell, who, with the benefit of fewer distractions in the form of scattergun questions from the punters (interactivity isn't always a boon, even in a democracy), was a far better debate manager than TV One's Mark Sainsbury. He kept much tighter control - it's no mean feat putting the brakes on Clark when shes in full head mistress flight - and also took a much more active role in the debate itself, arguing the points and pinning Clark and Key down into answering the questions.
Campbell, of course, had the advantage of having second go, perhaps less belligerently minded charges. But at one stage he sounded more like a patronising media coach, telling the pair "you both sounded good then!" when Clark and Key finally stopped banging on about trust and change and "under my watch!" and started talking specifics.
Still, it was, as Campbell and his panel agreed in the aftermath, a dispiriting affair, with a stronger sense of desperation on the part of the leaders than vision: one for a historic fourth term, the other to add Prime Minister to "goals achieved" on his CV.
If the interest is indeed going to be in the wacky fringes, that might explain why TV3 featured a piece of lunacy on the debate's edges, showing the big parties fortunes as a shares chart. Not the most reassuring analogy in these days of the headless chook state of the markets.
You couldn't get a better bit of escapism in a grim week of politics than heading off to India with comedian Sanjeev Bhaskar (Documentary Channel), a travelogue to rival fellow funny man Paul Merton's earlier exploits in China.
Bhaskar (The Kumars at No 42) started his sojourn in Mumbai where he eschewed the Bollywood cliche with a look instead at Indian soap opera, where he was invited to guest star as a sleazy producer: "So I didn't act."
Such glibness didnt last long when he visited the set of the Mrs India pageant where contestants got grilled on such topics as Adolf Hitler and marital rape. The man who is well used to throwing out-of-left-field questions at hapless talk-show guests was gob-smacked at some of the posers put here: "Did you have trouble finding a husband because you look taller than 5ft 6?"
The organiser, a formidable dame, said the aim of the contest was to show that Indians are "not hanging out of trees and eating bananas". As the organiser lobbed another doozie at a smiling contestant - "have you heard of the Mile High Club?" - this definitely was not the Miss Universe as we know it.
The pageant would have made a fascinating reality telly in itself, as would almost any aspect of life on the vast subcontinent. Rubbish recycling, for example, is a drama of the most intricate plots and subplots. Then there was the shiny high tech world of Bangalore, a surreal world where Bladerunner meets the Bhagavad-Gita.
Next episode Bhaskar is off to the India-Pakistan a border, a place where political tension is transformed into a performance that even the most talent-packed Western rivals couldn't hope to meet. Let alone plain old John and Helen.
