At least Sarah Palin seems to mean business

Most of our British politicians don't stand - they crouch.

And well below the parapet.

Not pugnacious Mrs P.

Her ideas about God, country and family are as square as her husband's jaw, while her rhetoric is so aggressive I wouldn't be surprised if her tongue turned green like The Incredible Hulk.

And yet.

She gave her kids dumb names like Track and Trig and Bristol, and thumps her Bible so often it would be well within its rights to take refuge in a hostel for battered books.

And yet.

She even has no qualms about slaughtering Polar Bears.

And yet and yet and yet...

What terrifies me most about Palin is how authentic and genuine she seems compared to the hollowed-out hypocrites who call themselves politicians in this country.

She represents conviction, while all we have is the big con.

Our politicians are members of the Keira Knightley generation of public servants.

Caring little about acting well, their only aspiration is to look good.

Keira has make-up artists and moisturising cream to do the job. Our politicos have the party line and promises of promotion.

Which is why everyone was so bemused when Alistair Darling made a few insipid comments about the economy and Labour's standing with the public which were actually - shock! horror! - true.

The party apparatchiks crashed down on him hard, so he won't do that again in a hurry.

While I was watching Palin impaling her enemies on the telly, Gordon Brown was making a speech on another channel.

I started flicking between the two.

Jeez.

The difference in presentation was like The Shield versus Dixon Of Dock Green.

What ever happened to the great clunking fist?

All Brown provides is great clunking.

Not only is he bereft of genuine policies, he has the charisma of a futon.

We may as well have a glove puppet for PM.

Or an oven glove.

At least it would be more adept at taking the heat.

An accusation that could never be made about Sarah Palin.

She may hail from the chilly climes of Alaska.

But I have a sneaking suspicion that she'll relish all the political heat she can get.