Wanted: a dog that can bark "Don't do it Esther". You might recall that back in what convention demands we style as the glory days of That's Life, the programme's presenter, Esther Rantzen, was much taken with a dog who could say her name. Dear little Prince will be long gone now, alas – but in the name of sanity, if there is a public-spirited talking canine out there, could it proceed straight to Luton South?

Initially, Esther had pledged to stand in this constituency only if Southampton-based dry rot martyr Margaret Moran declined to resign. Now Ms Moran has announced she will be standing down, you might reasonably have expected Esther to withdraw her threat … but I have to tell you no such undertaking has been received. Bravely weathering the media attention, Esther is heading off to "take advice from Luton South", a homogeneous entity she hopes will instruct her to run.

"I can resist everything except a challenge!" she told the BBC with the coquettish trill she once used to reserve for genital-shaped carrots.

Unfortunately, it doesn't end there. Also mulling runs are resting TV presenter Lynn Faulds-Wood, as well as Terry Waite, Martin Bell and the Telegraph's Simon Heffer, whose manifesto will promise armed apostrophe enforcement units. Then there is former Dollar singer David Van Day, who was only recently Esther's fellow contestant on I'm A Celebrity... Get Me Out Of Here. David is eyeing Nadine Dorries' Mid-Bedfordshire constituency. Perhaps Mr Sulu could challenge Hazel Blears.

A fortnight ago, using this spot to call for an invigorating burst of independent MPs, I had the sinking suspicion that famous folk would regard a few years in Westminster as a fun addition to their story arc, and prayed they would stand humbly aside in favour of ordinary people such as Richard Taylor, the doctor who has been independent MP for Wyre Forest since 2001.

That turned out well, then. The list of prospective celebrity candidates is growing, though they will doubtless resent being lumped together. Ms Rantzen will consider she has little in common with Mr Van Day – although, in the words of the old joke, one suspects both their answerphone messages say "I'll do it".

There is perhaps even more blue water between the careers of David and Martin Bell, but the point is that however debased the term might be today, both are celebrities. Mr Bell has become one, whether he likes it or not, and there is already far too much emphasis on renown in public life. Thinking this is somehow the solution to the expenses crisis is madness. If we seriously seek to remake our democracy, or at the very least patch it up, we should shun the osmotic relationship between politics and showbiz that has been such a corrosive force in recent years.

Things have got very bad. Not only does the World Economic Forum invite public intellectuals such as Sharon Stone to Davos, but it holds award ceremonies. Angelina Jolie sits on a prestigious US foreign policy thinktank. Geri Halliwell is sent to Washington to lobby congressmen, while congressional committees have become ever more celebrity-obsessed since 1985, when Jane Fonda, Sissy Spacek and Sally Field were called as expert witnesses before a congressional hearing entitled "The Plight of the Family Farmer". Why? Because they had all played farm wives in movies.

The real reason, of course, is that famous people bring cameras, allowing legislators to get their faces on TV. Yet it somehow feels even more screwed-up that a series of hasbeens who have exhausted their reality TV options now see Westminster as their next gig. To complete our tumble down the rabbit hole, you can rest assured that the producers of I'm A Celebrity will now be targeting those MPs who submitted some of the more baroque expenses claims. Heaven knows the former politicos will need a second act in their lives, to say nothing of the money – so we could find ourselves seeing Esther in parliament and Julie Kirkbride in the jungle.

Frankly, I haven't the appetite for making some gag about well-deserved bushtucker trials, because for all the superficial amusement, there is something wrong with our culture if the answer to every question is "Let's call for a celebrity". The famous already have more than enough influence, and if we allow parliament to become another outpost of that, then we really will have moved into the age of celebrigarchy.

No, let talented so-called nobodies stand instead, and if they subsequently become renowned for their work as an MP, then we will rejoice that parliament is functioning well enough to provide its own persons of good note, as opposed to having to co-opt them from the entertainment industry.

In the meantime, might I reiterate the plea for talking dogs? I realise many gifted hounds are drawn to the bright lights of TV talent shows, but there must be others who will feel the calling of public service – and who realise the two are discrete career choices. Perhaps celebrities could do the same.