DAVE Bishop is having a so-so afternoon on the stump. For every potential voter who stops to chat and take a flyer, another lowers their eyes and crosses the street. One elderly man pushing a bicycle makes it clear that he doesn't want to know, shouting "I don't like politicians."

That's going a bit far, considering that Mr Bishop is dressed as Elvis Presley, circa 1970, in Las Vegas You-Were-Always-On-My-Mind mode, in bright red jumpsuit with spangly patches on the chest and sporting a pair of oversized sunglasses.

And given the flyers that he's handing out bear the message: "From Elvis to David Cameron: I'd rather croak on the bog than vote for your ruddy mob", it's clear that Mr Bishop is no conventional politician. He's the man behind The Church of the Militant Elvis, and here, in the shadow of Howden Minster, he's adding a little more colour to one of the odder by-election campaigns of recent years. He's got a great line in patter, too: "Elvis is making a comeback; he's only got three feet to go," has two women in stitches.

Mr Bishop isn't the only unconventional candidate. Twenty minutes away, in Willerby, Miss GB, Gemma Garrett, is charming the socks
off everybody she meets, displaying an easy charm and ability to simply get on with people that most career politicians would envy.

And tomorrow, the constituency will be hit by the arrival of the Monster Raving Loony Party.

Then there's David Icke, the former television matinee idol turned conspiracy theorist, whose pulling power is drawing crowds out of sheer curiosity to see if he'll go into detail about the giant reptiles he says are the real rulers of the world.

Out on the Wolds, a quieter, yet no less personal campaign is being fought. John Nicholson, farmer and friend to many in the rural community, is standing on a ticket of bringing education to every child in the world, via a simple arithmetic teaching tool he has spent the last 13 years developing and from which he seeks no profit.

Haltemprice and Howden was billed by David Davis as the battleground over the issue of the Big Brother state, and that's a question on which every candidate has a passionate view.

But what has also happened is that the absence of the two other big parties has brought out a rainbow of candidates with a huge range of concerns. Some could charitably be described as attention-seekers, but between them they have turned the by-election into a demonstration of great British eccentricity.

All have paid their £500 for the privilege, and most are in it to win. Not so Mr Bishop, 63, who when he's not plying his trade as a painter and decorator in Nottingham, stages art exhibitions. He's the most amiable of souls, and proud of his track record of gently off-the-wall protest.

He stood against Neil Hamilton in the anti-sleaze contest, won by Martin Bell, and got 116 votes; he stood against Robert Kilroy-Silk's anti-Europe stance, in Erewash, and, oddly, polled exactly the same number. He stood in Brentwood, Essex, on an anti-fundamentalism ticket when sitting MP Eric Pickles was threatened by an ultra-orthodox religious sect, and scored 68 votes.

So why does he do it? "Anger about the state of the world, and the hope I can lighten it up a bit," he says.

"I'm interested in politics. I'm an Old Labour guy really, but I voted Tory when I was a teenager. And I don't agree with the 42 days thing.

"It gives me chance to say something; £500 is a second-hand car. Some people go into shops and spend £500 on clothes. Instead of sitting in pubs moaning about things, do something about it. That's why I do it. I'm putting it in my own way. We've got Miss GB here, and we've got Elvis, who's Mr Crap America, though I'm a big fan."

The extrovert approach isn't being embraced by Mr Nicholson, 67, from Bishop Burton. He's quietly-spoken but passionate about why, at an age when most people are starting to take life easier, he's seeking office for the first time, especially since he hasn't voted since the 1970s.

The reason for his campaign is The Nicholson Abacus, a simple tool for teaching arithmetic, which he believes could transform education around the world by making children numerate when they are very young.

It's taken him 13 years to develop his method and get the devices manufactured, and those years have not been easy. His passion for his subject, sparked after seeing a television programme about teaching in China, comes against the backdrop of a 19-year dispute with the HSBC, which he wants to resolve by the bank providing his abacus for every child in the world by their fourth birthday.

"I have the mental energy of a man who is much younger," says Mr Nicholson. "There is no profit for me in this."

He has tried to get attention for the abacus by sending them to Downing Street, but with mixed results. "I sent one to each of Brown's children and heard nothing back. I sent one to Blair and Mrs Blair wrote a very nice letter back. I said it might not make him clever enough to be Prime Minister but it might make him clever enough to be Chancellor."

He doesn't have much time for David Davis, saying his stance on 42 days is "bloody ridiculous. The police need time to look after these things. It is a piece of legislation that keeps people safer. This is a sham election, and we can put it to good purpose."

Oddly enough, the candidate who does have a lot of time for Mr Davis is the one whose support the former Shadow Home Secretary might be forgiven for being ambivalent about.

David Icke, with his lurid theories about how the world is really run, tends to attract sniggers. But he also attracts the curious, as well as a hard core of fervent supporters. Only a few weeks ago, he delivered a seven-hour lecture to a capacity audience of 2,500 at the Brixton Academy. Every seat, at £22.50 a head, was sold out three months in advance.

Mr Icke said: "When David Davis says he wanted to stand on the issue of Big Brother, I absolutely commend his stance because someone had to say 'enough'. Big Brother is not just about surveillance cameras and DNA databases, it involves things that David Davis supports. I want information so that people can see another level of reality

"The dark suits that appear to be in power are the puppets. The real power lies in the shadows because people don't know they exist. It is anything but a loose coalition, and what you get is the
same force manipulating both sides to a common end. This
is how Big Brother is playing out."

Fair enough. It's a view of the world that plainly resonates with some people. But when asked why the shadowy forces allow him to continue, Mr Icke spirals into the self-justification that has made him the conspiracy theorists' conspiracy theorist.

"For the last nearly 20 years that is the question I have been asking more than any other. Why are you not dead? I talk to thousands now, but in 1996, I couldn't fill a telephone box

"When you are walking down the street being laughed at, when you can't go in a pub because there is uproar, when you look at my journey through the '90s, if you were one of those elite, would you want me putting this stuff out?

"Since 9/11 there has been a change in the way people see me. If they took me out now, it would give massive credibility to what I'm saying."

The presence of the likes of Mr Icke, Mr Bishop and Miss Garrett is not universally welcomed, even though they are making this an entertaining by-election.

David Pinder, candidate for the New Party, which calls for smaller, leaner government., said: "It's difficult to get attention in the face of all the celebrities. We think we have serious policies, but I'm not Elvis, I'm not a beauty queen and I don't believe in lizards."

Getting attention will be even harder after tomorrow when Rosalyn Warner, aka The Mad Cow Girl, turns up. She may be the fourth-in-command of the Monster Raving Loony Party, but her day job is very serious indeed. Ms Warner, 47, is a senior nurse in the intensive care unit of Sunderland Royal Infirmary, and there is a very serious streak in her manifesto, too.

Her election leaflet says: "I may be a Loony, but I'm not mad enough to want dangerous people walking free in the name of political correctness.

"Suspected terrorists should be held until proved safe. Sex offenders should be held in asylums until considered safe
(if ever).

"Antisocial yobs can rot in prison if they can't be sociable.

"Why don't decent citizens have a 'Human Right' not to be assaulted, blown up or harassed, when the criminals can scream human rights if their handcuffs hurt?"

They are views that will be shared by many voters, even though they would not contemplate voting Loony. But Ms Warner is philosophical. "I know I've got at least one vote because I've been told by someone they've cast their postal ballot for me, so I won't be getting zero. But it's a topsy-turvy world if the serious candidate turns loony, and it's up to the Loonies to get serious."

It's just another twist in this very strange and rather eccentric demonstration of democracy at work.