If you win you will get a nice salary, pretty much guaranteed for five years, unless you die or do something terrible, because the judges will always be keeping tabs on you. In fact, you will be at the mercy of the judges day in, day out, for the entire five years after you make that winning stride across the finish line.

If you lose, you may always be considered a loser. You might be cast aside and have to return to your 'normal' life having spent so much time trying your utmost to win. If you are not of strong character, you will have to deal with the harsh reality that you are just not up to the mark when it comes to convincing people that you are the right person for the job. Your judges have watched you work and shot you down.

Well, are you up for the contest? It may not sound like an attractive proposition, but hundreds of men and women the length and breadth of Ireland have put themselves up for the hard slog, and are ready to slug it out in the greatest popularity contest of them all . . .

the general election.

But what drives someone to want to put themselves forward for such a thing? It could be the salary. TDs earn a minimum of 100,000 a year, with pretty generous expenses on top of that. But then, many sitting TDs and candidates already have decent careers, whether it's as local business people or professionals. For most of those who take it upon themselves to sign up for the race to the Dail, there are easier ways to bring home the bacon.

It might be a sense of civic duty or a strongly held belief that getting involved in the democratic process should be taken beyond using one's vote to actually trying to get elected.

The cynic in me says the idealists have already been proved wrong in their assessment that inside the hallowed walls, they can actually make a difference. A number of candidates were elected last time out because they thought they could repair the health service in their area. I have yet to see any evidence that their strategy worked.

Of course, there are those for whom being in the Dail is a family tradition. The Lenihans, the Flanagans and the Barrys spring to mind.

For these people, the motivation to enter the political fray is akin to being expected to become a doctor if your father was one. Having a family history of electability must go some way towards easing the burden of proof that the others have in terms of eligibility.

But this doesn't really answer the question of why exactly someone would want to put themselves through such a difficult and potentially ruinous experience. As I enjoy my Sunday with only the thoughts of a far-too-early alarm call tomorrow to bother me, these poor unfortunates are banging on doors and listening to the woes of the world.

As they push for votes, they will hear stories of broken pavements causing extreme annoyance, hooligans interrupting the slumbers of their potential constituents, and to top it all off, they are expected to kiss the babies of complete strangers.

When polling day comes, their efforts to impress will be judged by those who tick the boxes. If they like you, you'll get in, if they don't, you will leave the count centre a broken person.

At home, you will think about where it all went wrong. Did they not believe you? Did your clothes not fit the politician's profile? What has the other guy got that I don't?

But for the lucky few, winning the popularity contest is a dream come true. Past experience will show that you won't change the world, but at least you know they like you.