IN the opening episode of the Danish political drama Borgen, there is a multi-way debate between party leaders.

One wonders if Nicola Sturgeon, Scotland's First Minister and the world's number one Borgen fan, thought she was in for a similar civilised experience last night in the ITV leaders' debate. But was it Borgen in Salford the FM was taking part in, or had EastEnders overrun?

Those tuning into the encounter might well have wondered, for when it was not being fearfully dull this was a classic shout-fest of the kind not seen since the last barney in the Queen Vic over Character A's brother sleeping with Character B's sister while Character C was in jail for murder. The whole gang was here - the oddball old geezer, the feisty women, the posh blokes slumming it, the stray Aussie. The only thing missing was booze being spilled, a dog being trodden on and a cry of "Leave it aht, eez not worf it!", but one lived in hope that moderator Julie Etchingham would utter it.

What the viewer made of this Tower of Babble almost did not matter by the time proceedings began. The main thing was that the media loved it. They, after all, had brought the idea of a televised leaders' debate into the world, nurtured it, tried (but failed) to protect it from Downing Street harm, and now the big day had finally arrived. In the name of God and Sir Trevor McDonald the media was going to enjoy itself even if no-one else did.

Given the orgy of backslapping going on it seems party pooperish to ask how much light versus heat has been generated by such televised encounters, and how well the campaign coverage in general is serving voters. To paraphrase Ronald Reagan's killer question, are you better off with your general election coverage now than you were five years ago? Or have you hit the wall of white noise yet and, with five weeks still to go, are getting ready to switch off?

By general consensus, this is the mould breaker election. That there were seven participants in last night's debate was historic. As Ms Sturgeon said beforehand, it showed that the mould of two and three party politics in Britain had been broken. Visually, it was a huge shift from five years ago when Messrs Clegg, Cameron and Brown stood like three Moss Bros mannequins brought to life. There were similarly immense differences when it came to content. But as far as advancing the arguments, aiding understanding, changing voters' minds, all that psephological jazz, no-one can be sure. What we do know from 2010 and the experience of Nick Clegg is that even if it seems all right on the night it is not necessarily hunky dory on polling day. Plenty of people agreed with Nick, but he still went on to lose five seats.

The quality of election coverage this time around is already weighing on the mind of Andrew Marr, former print journalist turned broadcaster. Mr Marr was none too impressed with the inquisitorial style of Jeremy Paxman in his interviews last week with Ed Miliband and David Cameron. Paxo, said Marr, was "a genuinely tortured, angry individual" whose interviewing style was simply not effective. As to his own preferred approach, Marr did not hold with the idea of treating interviewees like scoundrels. The best that could be done, pleaded the BBC man, was to ask intelligent questions, keep eye contact, and if the questions are not answered then point this out and move on. How terribly Reithian.

Meanwhile, out on the campaign trail, the clash of Paxman and Marr antlers could barely be heard above the din of excitement being caused by a new, up-and-coming reporter by the name of Joey Essex. You may not know the reality show star yet, but those of a pessimistic bent fear he and his ilk are the future of election coverage. Mr Essex is the voice of youth, disengagement, and sheer copper bottomed ignorance, all the stuff producers of a certain bent adore. Joey's contribution this week was to interview Mr Clegg and ask him to explain why his party was called the Liberal Demo-cats. Next week: Joey gets in a jam asking why David Cameron leads The Preservatives and presses Nicola Sturgeon on whether she should add the words "Crackle and Pop" to the SNP name just to show she is up for a laugh.

Viewing the two extremes, Marr and his bid to turn the clock back to a gentler style of interviewing on one side, and Joey Essex and his endearing asininity on the other, one would hope there is a happy medium to be found. Those who operate on the internet believe they have found another way. Alex Miller of Vice media is among those surveying the landscape and not liking what he sees. "Looking at the big crater where UK politics once was," says Miller, "I think the media has to take a certain amount of responsibility for the state of this place." His solution is to get out to street level, "away from the Westminster echo chamber", smash the mould and let the people speak.

If Mr Miller cares to look northwards he will see that Scotland is already ahead of the game on that one by dint of its experience in the independence referendum. The campaigns in Scotland did not just buck every accepted trend in turnout; they showed that given a real choice, and enough information, voters engaged with the democratic process and, crucially, remained engaged.

One could argue this was due to the influence of the internet, allowing many voices to be heard where before it was only the opinions of the relative few that seemed to receive attention. Cyberspace had a part to play, certainly, but it is one that should not be overestimated. What made the difference in the independence campaign was the simple fact of people talking to each other. It doesn't get any more "street" than that. They examined their own assumptions, and those of others, after considering the arguments before them. At the heart of this engagement, although it will pain some to hear, were newspapers. Whatever lively debate took place on the web, whatever rammy happened on television, the roots of the story could probably be traced by to newspaper reporters getting out and talking to people, finding out what was going on and what voters wanted to know. It was a gloriously old fashioned process at work, albeit enlivened on the edges by new media.

Every generation of journalists covering an election wants to reinvent the media wheel, and what a dull old world it would be if they did not. But in cheering that process on we should not allow ourselves to be dazzled too much by this piece of software or that US-style television debate, regardless of how big a build up it receives. In the end, what matters most is trust: trust in the information received, trust in those delivering it, trust in one's own judgment. When it comes to elections that is the only show in town.