Dear citizens of America,

On behalf of my fellow countrymen in Britain, I'm writing to express my dismay at the way your presidential election race has turned out.

For years now, whatever the state of our political scene, we've been able to rely on your own to provide us with a warm feeling of superiority. If we felt dissatisfied with our prime minister, we had only to glance your way to feel blessed. Blair may have been shifty, Brown may be surly, but neither could be compared to their American counterpart without looking like political giants, men of lofty intelligence and virtue. Even those who most passionately opposed the Iraq war couldn't help but notice that Tony Blair made the case for it so much more eloquently than George Bush.

But now what have you gone and done? You've nominated, as de facto leaders of your political parties, two men who make Gordon Brown and David Cameron look puny by comparison.

John McCain's entire career reads like a very long message to Brown that can be approximately summarised as "This is how to do rough-hewn integrity". As for Cameron … well. A few months ago he almost seemed charismatic. But stand him next to Obama and suddenly he's revealed for what he is: a posh David Brent (that's like Michael Scott, only English).

It's not just our leaders - it's our whole political culture you're undermining. We're very comfortable characterising American politics as shallow, soundbite-driven, and personality-obsessed. It makes us feel high-minded, Greece to your Rome, that sort of thing - even when we're discussing our Home Secretary's cleavage or watching Cameron and Brown swap flaccid insults across the despatch box. But by god, you're making it difficult for us.

For some reason you've voted for two candidates who seem to actually enjoy discussing real political issues in detail. When Obama had a little trouble with his pastor, did he do a hilariously mawkish interview with Oprah Winfrey, or dismiss the whole affair with a scorching soundbite? Sadly, no. He made a long, complex speech about race in America. Then – here's the worst part – he put the whole 40 minutes of it on the web, and over four million people downloaded it. Haven't you people got soaps to watch?

As for McCain, he's no better. In a bid to escape the restrictive, reassuringly dumbed-down format of conventional TV debates, he's challenged Obama to a series of town-hall meetings with fewer rules and no moderator. What a show-off. Obama's response to this gambit? Fine, but let's make them even less structured, and longer; see you and raise the tone.

I mean, it's appalling. You're in danger of making our political leaders feel like they should have a proper public debate, or give a high-profile speech that addresses difficult issues without offering easy answers.

Over the years, we've also felt pretty smug at the way your politics is dominated by big business. Every time we read about an MP fiddling his expenses we need only summon to mind a mental picture of some oil baron in a Stetson stuffing money into George Bush's pocket to feel good about the smallness of our own corruptions. But Obama's campaign has raised hundreds of millions of dollars, not from fat corporate donors, but from ordinary people giving a few bucks at a time. And they don't even get a knighthood in return. It's just so … democratic.

In fact, it's not just our sense of political superiority you're damaging. It's our pride in being British, dammit. What you may not understand is just how much of our national self-image is premised on the idea that your country is full of apathetic, stupid people.

We may not be the richest country in the world, or have the biggest army like you do. What we have instead is an enduring sense that we are better, smarter, more serious people who don't dominate the world any more only because to do so would be a bit try-hard.

So when we read about record numbers of Americans coming out to vote and volunteer for their candidate, to organize public events and knock on doors and distribute leaflets about the war and argue about the rights and wrongs of health policy, it makes us feel a bit … tired. A bit tired, and to be completely honest, mildly depressed.

Let me appeal to your sense of history (even though, of course, we all know you don't have one): if you have any residual affection for your former landlords, please cease and desist with this vulgar public display of civic seriousness. Or – if I might borrow your vernacular – enough with the grown-up politics already.

Yours faithfully,

Ian Leslie