Incumbents have little to gain from television debates; challengers everything. That’s why in Britain, they’ve never happened. Neil Kinnock demanded a debate from Margaret Thatcher, and was swatted away. William Hague demanded one from Tony Blair, and met with the same fate.

Incumbents resist, because they have the most to lose, but run the risk of looking ‘frit’. A televised debate is a great leveller. There are no trappings of office, no governmental backdrop. Candidates are placed on an equal footing, close enough to see the sweat on each other’s brow. It’s the political equivalent of bare-knuckle boxing.

What drives most challengers is the result of the famous 1960 presidential debates between John Kennedy and Richard Nixon. Nixon-Kennedy has the status with political anoraks of Muhammad Ali versus Joe Frazier. There were four debates, and for the first time, they were broadcast on the new mass medium of television. Eighty million people watched the first one. It was a disaster for Vice-President Nixon. Immediately afterwards, Nixon’s mother phoned him to see if he was ill. He looked terrible because he refused television make-up. Kennedy won the first debate (although the smaller radio audience thought it went to Nixon), but Nixon won the second, and the third and fourth were a draw. It didn’t matter. Kennedy got the edge he needed, and won the presidency with the tiniest of margins.

So David Cameron clamours for a debate with Gordon Brown in the hope he can ‘do a Kennedy’. This time, though, Brown hopes he can ‘do a Kennedy’ too. Labour’s strategy is to present the governing party as the plucky underdog, challenging the dominant Conservatives. Brown is perceived to be a poor communicator. Cameron is slicker than a greased pig. Cameron won the leadership of his party by out-performing David Davis at the party conference. He wowed the Tory faithful by being able to make a speech ‘without notes’ (although that was a big fat lie; the notes were on the podium behind him). So Cameron would start the debate as the favourite, ahead in the polls, and on the path to power. All Brown would need to do is not be terrible, to take the shine off Cameron’s performance, and to shove him off the road to No10 and into the ditch. In short, Brown should debate with Cameron because Brown has nothing to lose, Cameron everything.

Depending on the format, a televised debate can play to Labour’s strengths. Our election campaign is based on some simple premises: you may not like us, but we’re right on the economy; you wouldn’t want to go for drink with our guy, but he’s better than the other guy when it comes to protecting your job, mortgage and savings. A debate that allows space for proper discussion about the economy, public services, and international affairs would easily expose Cameron as shallow. Cameron’s anodyne metaphors such as ‘let sunshine win the day’ or ‘the view from the summit will be worth it’ won’t cut it in the forensic sparring over quantitative easing or banking regulations.

The devil is in the detail, of course. The Liberal Democrats will demand a place at the podium, which would turn a clash of titans into a political menage a trois. What would happen in Scotland and Wales? Could the smaller parties and independents demand their chance to snap at Gordon’s ankles? And then there’s the programme’s format, which in the US is the cause of negotiations that make Bretton Woods look like a game of scissors-paper-stone. I can imagine that former television producer Peter Mandelson might have a view on the length of opening statements, responses and summing up. There is every chance that the rows drag into the campaign itself and fail to be resolved.

Should Brown debate with Cameron? Yes he should. Will it happen? Unlikely.