Philadelphia is a big city that frequently acts like a small one. This is a charming approach - charming, but wrong. Where, precisely, has it gotten us? It's time to think bold and big.

Initially, I was skeptical about Tony Danza's turning Northeast High into So, You Think You Can Teach with his A&E series, and the Parking Authority's becoming grist for Parking Wars, because the real version wasn't yucky enough. Then I realized that I'd succumbed to tiny thinking. In the absurdity of every day, there's drama.

Politicians, though rarely credible actors, can be entertainers. When Tom DeLay cha-chas on network television, and Rod Blagojevich visits the agitated coffee klatch of The View, this suggests entertainment opportunities closer to home. Philadelphia, to say nothing of Pennsylvania, is a dose of in-your-face reality that's ready for its high-def closeup.

Where others see incompetence, lethargy, and patronage hacks, we should see potential for intrigue, humor and pathos, to say nothing of ratings gold.

The beloved Department of Licenses and Inspections is the dream vehicle for Danza's dyspeptic former costar, Danny DeVito, to guest-star as a customer-service manager. The agency, known for its speed and cordial service, is prime fodder for a bruising new comedy, It's Always "Some Day" at L&I.

A City Council hooked on perks - DROP, cars, a fat budget in a fiscal crisis, three-month paid vacations - is jonesing for A&E's Intervention, "in which people confront their darkest demons and seek a route to redemption." The show would profile people whose "compulsive behavior has brought them to a point of personal crisis and estranged them from their friends and loved ones," according to the show's Web site - as good a description of Council members as any.

When the doomsday "Plan C" clock was ticking, Mayor Nutter resembled 24's intense Jack Bauer, racing to Harrisburg strapped to a budgetary bomb, disaster lurking at any hour. This municipal version lost much of its power and credibility when it dragged on for 80 24s.

The Board of Revision of Taxes, staffed with geriatric do-nothings, is The Golden Girls meets The Office. Actually, many government entities resemble The Office. Except they're not funny. And no one would watch. Unless the BRT could be turned into a Japanese game show with plenty of goo and public humiliation. Or, better yet, send everyone on The Amazing Race with the explicit promise of their never coming back, a gift to us all.

There's excellent programming fodder beyond the city limits. Jim Matthews, Joe Hoeffel, and Bruce Castor, the dysfunctional managers of Montgomery County, deliver as much fireworks as any episode in Bravo's Housewives empire - without the champagne, acrylic nails, table tossing, or hair-extension-pulling. (Maybe that's what's missing in Norristown.) The Real Commissioners of MontCo would prove, once and for all, that petty suburban bureaucrats can launch catfights as nasty as those of any bevy of NFL or Jersey contractors' wives. Jim and Joe would star as alpha dudes hell-bent on making the upstart, pin-striped Bruce rue the day he ever left the D.A.'s Office.

Who are we calling fat? The Pennsylvania legislature, 50 senators, 203 House members and, with 2,919 employees, the largest staff in the nation. Can it be any surprise that Pennsylvania turns out to be the slowest, too, last in the nation to pass a budget? Legislators cut or taxed almost anything that wasn't bolted to the Capitol floor. However, if a budget item benefits legislators, there's always room for more, such as $100 million just allocated for walking-around money - though, in the legislature's case, it's most likely sitting-around money.

The place is so ripe for The Biggest Loser. Put these fat cats on killer diets and workouts. That way, Harrisburg would shed elected officials, special interests, slush funds, and waste and shrink itself down to an idyllic green pasture.

Contact columnist Karen Heller at 215-854-2586 or kheller@phillynews.com.