Britons have a strange fascination with all things American. This is especially true of American politics.

I'm not sure why they pay so much attention. They have no idea what's going on in Europe, 12 miles across the sea. The only reason any of us over here know that Nicolas Sarkozy is president of France is because his wife is a smokin' hottie and that nude picture of her was featured in The Sun.

I suspect Britons follow Yankee politics because, as the United States' mother country, they feel an obligation to nitpick. It is their right and responsibility to politely draw attention to all our failings:

BRITON: "Everything you do is confusing and wrong."
ME: "Actually, I think you'll find that Gordon Brown's government is..."
BRITON: "Shhh, I'm not talking about us, I'm talking about you."

Needless to say, as the U.S. presidential campaign drags on endlessly and painfully -- like that time you gave blood and got saddled with the trainee nurse -- Britons can't seem to get enough of it. They are following the race as if it were some kind of reality-TV program.

In a way, I suppose that's very much what a presidential election is: a reality competition in which the winner gets to spend the next four years being burned in effigy by angry mobs.

Perhaps reality-television elements could be adapted to the election process. For instance, if we ever again find ourselves in a situation similar to that of the 2000 election, it could be settled with a dance-off: the future of America determined by the ability to paso doble to a moody version of "Me and Mrs. Jones."

Also, the Electoral College could be replaced by a panel of judges consisting of Randy Jackson, Sharon Osborne, Bruno Tonioli and Deion Sanders. Because if you can't get any love from Prime Time, you don't deserve any "prez" time.

The drawback to this mindset, though, is that Britons have trouble accepting that Americans would take it seriously.

"Who are you voting for?" they will ask me.

"Actually, it's kind of rude to ask a person who he's voting for," I will explain. "It's an odd feature of American etiquette, I suppose, because we'll usually end up telling you if you don't ask. But when faced with the question directly, we prefer not to answer."

"Fascinating," the Briton will say. "So, who are you voting for?"

What troubles me most about being asked that question is the knowledge that I am not being asked solely about my own opinion. I am being asked to speak as a representative for all Americans. Often the question, "Who are you voting for?" will go hand-in-hand with, "Who's going to be president?"

"I don't know," I will say. "You'd have to check with a few hundred million other Americans for the answer to that. It's not a decision entirely up to me. If it were, that woman who plays Abby on 'NCIS' would be leader of the free world."

Because I am one of only a handful of Welsh-speaking Americans, and the only one within walking distance of the BBC Wales studios, I am occasionally called upon to answer these questions on television. It's a lot of fun. I love being on TV, if only for the fact that I can usually connive the crew into buying me lunch.

The drawback is that I don't actually have anything intelligent to say. Perhaps in doing so, I validate people's opinions of American politics.

"See, their system is so confusing and wrong that even they don't understand it."

Anyway, the point is, I thought you should know that I'm over here speaking on your behalf. Everyone here thinks America's next leader will be a fictional forensic scientist. Please back me up on this.

Chris Cope lives with his wife in Cardiff, Wales. His column appears every other Tuesday.