And of course, "no knockout blows." (Yes, somebody actually wrote that.)

Years ago, Rick Salutin shrewdly translated that eternal media lament.

When reporters say there were "no knockout blows," he wrote, they mean there were "no useable clips." It never seems to occur to the media that these debates might have something more to offer than the mildly diverting spectacle of grown men and women shouting at -- or over -- one another. Or rather, it does occur to them, in those intervals between elections when the press is full of lectures on the need for greater civility in public life. But the minute the bell sounds for the next campaign, all this is forgotten.

By way of contrast to the scorn heaped on the Liberals, the Tory leadership debate the next day was described in comparatively glowing terms -- not because anything of significance happened, not because anyone learned much of anything from the exchange, but strictly because two or three of the candidates made nasty personal remarks about another one. These were faithfully replayed on the evening news, and throughout the next day's news cycle.

I take it this is an example of our famous Canadian politeness. In the last American election, Al Gore lost points for sighing too loudly. But Canadian politicians are allowed, indeed encouraged, to say the most appalling things about each other: In one notable election of recent times, the challenger's whole campaign was based on the contention that the incumbent was in league with foreigners to "sell out" the country.

The fascinating thing about this quest for "sparks" is that they almost invariably provide nothing in the way of genuine information about the candidates or their positions. The one and only "knockout blow" in the history of modern political debates, Brian Mulroney's dusting ("You had an option, sir") of John Turner in 1984, is memorable only for having been a complete lie: In rounding on Mr. Turner for making a number of patronage appointments (at his predecessor's behest), Mr.

Mulroney meant to suggest that he would do better. He didn't.

A jaundiced eye might therefore be cast on the moment highlighted in every news report on last Saturday's contest: John Manley's stagey challenge to Paul Martin to reveal the sources of his campaign contributions, in time for the next debate. You would never know that Mr. Manley has not yet disclosed his contributors either, or none that, like Mr. Martin and like Sheila Copps, the other candidate in the race, he has kept stashed away in a blind trust -- as indeed he is allowed to do under the rules, until shortly before the vote.

Of course, if he does disclose these, it will no longer be blind. But then, we have seen how elastic the Liberal definition of a blind trust can be, whether in the matter of the Prime Minister's golf course holdings or the "Venetian blind trust" that allowed Mr. Martin to be regularly briefed on the fortunes of his shipping company. Moreover, as the ethics-in-government advocate Democracy Watch has pointed out, prior to the rules coming into effect, all three candidates were in receipt of secret contributions from hidden benefactors, even outside their blind trusts.

Indeed, Mr. Manley and Ms. Copps were each required to return at least one contribution by the Ethics Counsellor, Howard Wilson, on the grounds that these could have placed them in a conflict of interest. Yet not only was the public never informed as to the source or amount of these contributions, but neither minister suffered any penalty for what would appear to be violations of federal ethical guidelines. Ms. Copps, for her part, continues to receive donations from companies within her purview as Minister of Heritage, suggesting a certain elasticity in the government's definition of conflict of interest as well.

As entertaining as this multisided attempt to play the virgin at the whorehouse may be, there's also something sad about it. Mr. Manley has apparently decided that the only way he can attract any attention from the media and dispel his image as a decent plodder is to act up, like a spoiled child with the dinner guests. And so the former minister of the high road has taken to increasingly frenetic displays of "feistiness," now dissing Ms. Copps as a serious candidate, now calling for the debate format to be changed to permit him to interrupt Mr.

Martin more.

That would please the networks. I'm just not sure what it would do for democracy.