ON Five Live last week, they were having a debate about the forthcoming local elections and the reasons for what is expected to be a low voter turnout across the country.

During a vox pop in Liverpool, a woman of 18 was asked who she thought was in charge of Liverpool City Council. Her perplexing response: “The Queen”.

There was much hilarity in the studio, alongside an earnest discussion about the nadir to which political interest had sunk when people think one of the reigning monarch’s responsibilities is to decide how often the bins are emptied in Toxteth.

But I had a bit of sympathy with the confused Scouser. I used to mix Margaret Thatcher up with the Queen. OK, I was six but their hairstyles were quite similar and I was honestly not sure which woman was the most important. I’m sure Thatcher had no such doubts.

Is it really any surprise that people don’t care about politics enough to wander up to the fire station once a year to scrawl a cross on a piece of paper? Society now is obsessed with personality and politics has no personality at the moment.

Successful politicians tend to be academics, mathematicians or lawyers. The problem with that type of person is that, while they may have an idea of how to manage an inner-city regeneration project, they’re hardly laugh-a-minute.

Look at the London mayoral race. Ken Livingstone isn’t worried about Boris Johnson because of his political track record. He’s worried about him because he’s a big personality. He amuses as much as he aggravates – qualities that keep people interested.

When I first became aware of politics, the people involved were all about sheer political conviction and, whether they despised or adored them, people were fascinated by them - Scargill, Tebbit, Hatton, Benn, Parkinson, Archer, Heseltine, Lawson, Currie – to say nothing of the aforementioned PM.

The politicians of the 1980s would say controversial things and resign in a huff at the drop of a hat. One impregnated his secretary and another perjured himself in a libel trial.

While those people made headlines because of their personal lives, there was an underlying, widespread belief that, while they might have been little scallywags, they were reasonably good at their jobs.

But with the likes of Ed Balls, Hazel Blears or George Osborne, it’s impossible to bring yourself to really care about them.

Distil that down onto the local level and it’s easy to see why the celebrity-obsessed general public would rather stay in and watch Holby City than have their say in the workings of local government.