From the carefully orchestrated Benetton style ads and Press conferences of the United Bermuda Party to the nostalgia inducing mantras of the Progressive Labour Party, electioneering has never been so surreal.

Both parties have magically produced their rabbits out of their hats and in the end today's poll may well turn out to be a referendum on the sex appeal of Kingsley Tweed or John Swan.

Or at least on the significance of the periods each of these Bermuda icons represent.

With little real debate on substantive issues one could be forgiven for thinking that the voters are already the biggest losers in what could well be Bermuda's most significant general election yet.

Perhaps not - like zombies, die-hard party faithful will vote for their team regardless of its position on the issues and tribal politics may rule by the end of today.

But the unprecedented numbers of undecided voters will have to toss a coin, pray or roll dice before heading to the polling stations. For the UBP it all started way before the Premier's announcement of the poll date.

s the Opposition they had determined to be ready no matter what date Ms Smith in her wisdom decided on.

So as government members reeled in shock at their own party leader's decision, the UBP was shouting "bring it on".

Already, though, they were beginning to repeat themselves. Reporters showed up for one Press call after another to hear again that the Opposition could do a better job at making the streets safer and, because its team was more "diverse", was far better qualified to lead the country.

They trotted out a chorus line of "diverse" faces each time to prove the point. But with so many people assembled to make one statement, each candidate was given about one word each.

Despite a well funded and organised campaign, the Opposition has had its embarrassing moments. So has the governing party - but they made up for it with plenty of humour.

A major low point for the "new" UBP was its dramatic announcement that Government had been interfering with the Police investigation into the Bermuda Housing Corporation (BHC).

The media, which had been summoned to the grounds of Cabinet House to hear the tale, demanded to know more.

"All will be revealed in good time," said Michael Dunkley.

"Stay tuned," echoed spokesman Jamahl Simmons.

Similar assurances were repeated weeks later when the media again asked for the evidence. Nothing yet - except Police Commissioner Jonathan Smith's strenuously diplomatic denial of the allegations.

This season's electioneering would make a good study in paradoxes, unbelievable brazen ironies and an age old phenomenon called A Bermuda Moment.

Touting integrity as just one of the core values it would bring to government, it emerged that one of the Opposition candidates had in fact been convicted of stealing money from a youth programme at the Regiment.

Not to be outdone, the PLP produced its own criminal who took the bull by the horns and went in front of the cameras to say he had been remorseful and found it strange that the matter was being brought up "at this time".

Later he was heard telling party supporters at an "affirmation rally" that there had been an "assassination attempt". He meant an attempt to assassinate his good character.

Former Premier Sir John Swan was announced as the UBP's choice to head up the Economic Development Authority - a "bold" new body which does not exist yet but has already undergone countless name changes.

Sir John, who had divided the party with his personal ambitions while running the old UBP, announced that he really liked and supported the new UBP with its vision of unity and inclusion. But he had "made it clear" that he would not be entering politics again, Grant Gibbons reassured the country.

"Everything," including this appointment is political," said Sir John seconds later. "Politics is politics is politics."

Rabbit number two - theatre boycott legend Kingsley Tweed, co-opted by the PLP, to help rally the troops - delighted audiences wherever he went.

Mr. Tweed, who started a 40-year exile before the start of party politics, knows little about either of the two political parties.

And some of the key leaders of the theatre boycott movement actually joined the UBP.

Having said that, Mr. Tweed announced that he speaks to Mazumbo (the late labour leader Dr. E.F. Gordon) and the late PLP founder Wilfred Allen on a regular basis.

The occasion was the PLP Press conference called to launch the party's platform. Party Leader/Campaign Chairman/Premier Jennifer Smith then officially welcomed the living legend back to Bermuda.

With startling confidence, the Premier announced that the platform had not been delayed but would be distributed to voters about 24 hours before they were due to go to the polls.

She saw nothing wrong with that because the reporter who had questioned that had not, apparently, asked the UBP why they had not always produced a platform over the last 35 years.

"You're in trouble, you know," offered Mr. Tweed, stealing the show again. The crowd of sycophants burst into laughter.

"The best is yet to come," the PLP repeated as they handed out a platform that said next to nothing about what was to come.

The sycophants would gather at Alaska Hall on every press occasion to watch Madam Leader deal with the press and, in particular, The Royal Gazette.

And when the long awaited platform was produced, no one commented on the irony behind the fact that she was now almost entirely dependent on the same newspaper to distribute the document. At a seance later that night Mr. Allen told this reporter that he was too dizzy from spinning in his grave to talk to anyone much these days.

While the PLP's campaign has focused on the record of the party's first term as government, the UBP has tried to convince the voters that it is not the same party that was almost decimated after the 1998 general election.

The ruling party countered with a message that their opponents could not be trusted given their record during 35 years at the helm.

But the delivery of that message hit rocky ground with an overwritten ad called "trust me".

The Opposition's carefully orchestrated, professional campaign was quick to respond hours after the ad had hit the airwaves and been withdrawn by the PLP.

And with an over the top shrillness, the ad was denounced as "vile", "tasteless" and full of "hatred" by Mr. Simmons sporting the straightest face he could muster.

The ad was rewritten for a final performance at the Bernard Park rally - this time the offending words ("suntan" and "shyster") were removed and it was just as funny to the 5,000 people in attendance.

Mr. Tweed pulled through for the party he never knew with an electrifying speech about freedom, the struggle for social justice and personal responsibility.

"My story is about how we must elevate the political discourse tonight," Mr. Tweed boomed sounding a little like Dr. King. "Make our party alliance strong and pure and deliberate. Make it happen for us. Make our aspirations the Progressive Party's aspirations."

His biggest applause came when he referred to wall sitters who complained that government wasn't doing enough for them.

"Well, what the hell do you expect the government to do for you when you don't get up off your backsides and participate in the process?"

In terms of style and strategy the parties' campaigns have been poles apart. Laughter and song have been the PLP's secret weapons. As with the 1998 election the party chose a strategy of direct communication with the people - meeting the grassroots on the grass and the doorsteps - and avoiding as much as possible reliance on a media they find difficult to trust. The party's long struggle for social justice was invoked again and again as they urged their supporters to do their part in bringing in the vote.

Audiences grew with each of the three "affirmation" rallies where candidates pranced about to the strains of Motown, Bob Marley and Barry White, before delivering their speeches.

It was hard to tell sometimes whether their considerable enthusiasm was for the candidates or the music. Meanwhile the UBP toured the Island in a taxi entourage, while choosing to project an image of seriousness and unity. So no one smiled at press conferences unless they all smiled. But they wanted to make clear that they fully embraced ideals of social justice and equality and invoked figures like Nelson Mandela in their rhetoric.

The Opposition avoided too much criticism of government's record, and claimed instead that much of the positive things that had happened over the last five years were their initiatives.

She wanted a longer period for campaigning because of the new electoral system, the Premier announced in early June, but it wasn't until the end of that month that the PLP started to officially name their candidates.

Soon the Press was being summoned to hastily called but frequent press conferences at which the Premier would spit admonitions at pesky reporters and evade questions by telling them they should have asked the same ones of the Opposition.

Some of the PLP candidates, like Wilbur Lowe and Delaey Robinson, were pulled from the brink of retirement to stand.

Rev. Lowe said he had agreed to come back because the party was "desperate". And it was that kind of frankness that cast this contest as a race between the weird but oddly endearing Benetton family and the dysfunctional but oddly endearing Addams Family.