Dancing our way to a poll position ...

Poll dancing - it's a tricky business - and some may find they fall fast and land hard.

While I think it's fair to say I've never been much of a fan when it comes to reality TV, I do have one or two weaknesses, with the American version of So, You Think You Can Dance, being one of them.

Last week, in a desperate attempt to cleanse myself of dirty politics and exfoliate everything pertaining to the upcoming election, I sought refuge and escape in the series finale, online.

It had become a weekly ritual, an indulgence of sorts. With cheesecake no longer on the budget, I'd carefully prepare the perfect cup of coffee and lovingly toast two heavenly crumpets, smother them in lashings of golden butter, which incidentally has come close to rivalling real gold in price per ounce, and top with raspberry jam. (Golden syrup, if I'm feeling particularly decadent).

Armed with handy towels for dripping chins and sticky fingers, I'd then steal away into my boudoir with Waffle at my side, and delight in 90 minutes of dance that every week saw me so enthralled and captivated, a raid by the AOS (artery overload squad) would have failed to move me.

One dancer in particular, Ricky, was just spellbinding. From his first audition, you just knew he was special and he made it through the entire competition without one word of criticism from the judges. He quite literally couldn't put a foot wrong. Even in the genre of hip hop, his performances would move me to tears. A real spirit-lifter and a far cry from politics and its propaganda, or was it?

The more I thought about it, the more similarities I saw. Performance, fancy footwork, the right moves, even the need for a strong, reliable partner with whom you feel safe. Maybe this is poll dancing of a different kind.

Our MPs are no strangers to the challenges found in classical dance. Flexibility, or lack of it, splits, and the ability to stay on point. Even dropping their partner from time to time or spinning out of control.

All are experts at stretching, though more often the truth as opposed to their muscles.

At the end of the day, it's all about the performance and how believable it is. Fluid movement that appears effortless and having the ability to consistently stay in character.

Pretenders are easily spotted. Their lack of rehearsal becomes clearly evident under the unforgiving glare of the spotlight. They lack balance and are unable to commit to certain moves. Even with the best choreography, routines can fall flat and performances appear awkward and clumsy.

Egos seeking the limelight may refuse to stay in step, preferring instead to dance to their own tune, but these efforts to upstage often result in them becoming a laughing-stock.

Others alienate with the use of risky and dangerous moves, but this only serves to paint themselves as a wall flower that nobody wants to partner with, forever in the wings and never on centre stage.

Getting a lead role in the production is one thing but it requires even more effort to maintain it. You can't become complacent. The audience needs to be wowed throughout the entire show. Fancy foot work must be dotted strategically through the routine, not just reserved for the opening and the close, for sometimes it is the audience who controls the outcome of a flying leap ... and how you fall is up to them.

Beware too, the hovering understudy, who has mastered each and every move and are all too willing to relieve you of your role.

Politics and dance so strangely similar. It's been a long time in production, but next weekend the curtain goes up. The results will never please everybody. Some will glide effortlessly in to position, others may land awkwardly but recover, a few new faces may shimmy out of the shadows while more may be forced to retire, injured.

The outcome will be interesting. For some it will be the ultimate Swan Lake but for others the same performance will spell dead duck and a three-year dance with the devil. The only way to have your say is by doing a poll dance of your own. Step out and vote. Please, whatever the outcome, spare us the lycra and legwarmers.

Kate Stewart is an unemployed, reluctant mother-of-three, currently running amok in the city ... approach with caution or cheesecake. Feedback to investik8@gmail.com