The first televised leadership hustings will take place in the constituency that symbolises all that went wrong with Labour’s election campaign. What do voters in this key marginal make of the candidates?

Nuneaton is Labour’s white whale. As much a symbol of election defeat as bacon sandwiches and oversized pledge tombstones, the town will forever be known as the place where Ed Miliband’s dreams went to die.

It all looked so different before 8 May. Not even those reality-jolting exit polls – the ones that gave Paddy Ashdown such an improbable hunger for hats – could shake the belief that this was Labour’s night to lose.

But lose they did. At 1.45am, Nuneaton – a key marginal that Labour had eyed as an election-defining scalp – declared itself steadfastly Conservative. Everything after that was merely a formality. Labour had collapsed.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest ‘Liz Kendall looks like she works hard. She looks tired’: Nuneaton resident Connor Ealing. Photograph: Christopher Thomond for the Guardian

As a result, Nuneaton has gained all the symbolic mysticism of a Native American burial ground. It’s now been revealed that the candidates vying to replace Miliband as leader – following Mary Creagh’s exit, just Andy Burnham, Yvette Cooper, Liz Kendall and, if he can muster the necessary 35 nominations from Labour MPs, Jeremy Corbyn – will come to the town for the first televised leadership hustings on 17 June. It’s a move that simultaneously comes off like a sensible acknowledgement of mistakes and a berserk, shamanic incantation to raise the souls of the dead. But what do the people of Nuneaton think about it?

I plan to find out by travelling to Warwickshire armed only with photographs of the frontrunners, to see what reactions they provoke. However, what I find is a town still in shock. To get anyone to discuss the leadership, first I have to let them air their grievances about British politics in general.

And Nuneaton’s grievances, it turns out, cover the entire grievance spectrum: from longstanding partisan grudges (“Gordon Brown is the reason for all the crap we’re in now”) to accusations of elitism (“They’ve got their big houses and millions in the bank. But when we need the help, they give us nothing”) to broad, catch‑all political suspicion (“Whatever they say, they twist it to fit whatever they want”).

Politics is personal for Nuneaton residents. When revealing who they voted for in May, a surprisingly large proportion of the people I speak to refer to their chosen candidate by first name only, usually because they have met face to face, often without even knowing which party they represent. For example, Trade Unionist and Socialist Coalition candidate Paul Reilly – who received only 194 votes – is repeatedly spoken about in glowing terms, purely because people know who he is.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Market stall holder Wayne Carson: ‘People always trust females over males ... My wife works with me, and people trust her more.’ Photograph: Christopher Thomond for the Guardian

However, there is a clear favourite when it comes to the Labour leadership. A galvanising figure who rises to the surface time and time again. A figure who, if the contest went to a popular vote today, would absolutely walk it. Unfortunately for Labour, that figure is Chuka Umunna.

That Umunna has dropped out is disappointing to many residents. Most disappointed is Beverly, a traditionally Labour-supporting mum of two who voted Conservative last month because Ed Miliband left her cold. “I thought Chuka had potential,” she says. “He had youth in his favour. He had education and background in his favour.”

But what about the others, the ones who actually still want to be Labour leader? So far, it’s fair to say they all suffer from deep-set anonymity problems. “Is that Harriet Harman?” asks market trader Wayne Carson when shown a photo of Kendall. “No? Then that’s Harriet Harman,” he says, pointing to the photo of Cooper. Another trader is convinced that Kendall’s first name is Vicky. Burnham doesn’t fare any better. Amy, a 20-year-old non-voter, is just about the most lenient of the bunch when she calls him “just a normal-looking man”.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Non-voter Amy, pictured right, thinks Andy Burnham is ‘just a normal-looking man’. Photograph: Christopher Thomond for the Guardian

Even by these dismal standards, Cooper stands out as the highest-profile candidate. Annie Morris, a softly spoken octogenarian I collar on a bench, immediately picks her out as a favourite, saying: “I remember her. She was on a debate and she was good. She gave it to Iain Duncan Smith, so I was very pleased about that.” But with recognition comes notoriety. Upon seeing her picture, one man shouts abuse, explaining: “She says she knows where Labour has gone wrong, but why wasn’t she saying that a couple of months ago? She’s a turncoat. A TURNCOAT!”

However, aside from Burnham, who is deemed – albeit by a member of the Lincoln Students’ Union Conservative Society – untrustworthy because his eyebrows look unkempt, all of the candidates draw some level of praise. Wayne, in particular, is pleased that so many women are running for leader, on the basis that “people always trust females over males. I’ve learned that doing this job for 30 years. My wife works with me, and people trust her more.”

According to the people of Nuneaton, though, Kendall may well be the woman to beat. One local calls her “genuine”. Another, having stopped dead in her tracks to paw adoringly at her photo, plumps for “pretty”. A third thinks Kendall is “hard-working”, before adding the slightly unflattering qualifier that this is entirely because she looks tired.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Steven Banks doesn’t trust Andy Burnham: ‘His eyebrows are too bushy.’ Photograph: Christopher Thomond for the Guardian

So, there you have it. According to the people of Nuneaton, the next Labour leader should be attractive, hard-working, trustworthy, forthright, female and able to go back in time and buy up all our old gold reserves. Ideally, they should also possess some basic eyebrow maintenance techniques.

Whoever ends up as leader, though, has to get through Nuneaton first. And that might be harder than it looks. It’s such a marginal constituency that everyone I speak to – even those who didn’t vote – completely understands the weight of their say. If I were Burnham, Cooper, Kendall, or Corbyn, I’d be worried about leaving the place intact. As one resident told me, “They’re brave coming here. We’re a fierce lot, us Nuneaton lot. We tell it like it is. That’s what God gave us gobs for.”