I live in Northern Ireland where our politicians are so useless you'd nearly ban them.
Our council meetings consist of politicians voting in a partisan block, regardless of the issue, sometimes voting to agree that other party representatives will not be allowed to speak for the rest of the meeting. No Jackie Weaver in sight.
Then Brexit. Ever the agents of our own downfall, we helped to bring in the NI Protocol by kicking out every suggestion until only Boris and the Protocol were left.
I can't buy many items because they either don't deliver to NI anymore or aren't on the shelves. Cannot import large items without paying hundreds more. Businesses are stretching and buckling. It's not practical and I don't have a better idea. We're still discovering the ways we're going to be fleeced and inconvenienced in the years to come. The paperwork is unreal.
There is no way back from this, is there. Northern Irish political folk do not give up. They have successfully spent years bickering over something very minor to do with the Irish language, to the point that there hasn't been a functioning executive for years. They grind so small it's a kind of insanity, like immobility as a form of transport.
Now we have a proper subject to argue about which has, as befits any Northern Irish argument, no possibility of ever being solved. As usual, it's not entirely our fault, either. To all who voted Brexit, we couldn't have done it without you.
Border posts, endless haggling over details, coded encouragement to violent paramilitaries followed by pseudo exhortations for peace after the inevitable riots, cosy craft evenings in the garage making "Ulster says no to Irish Sea border" signs for the local roundabouts. This is exactly the sort of thing we like and we don't stop when people get hurt. Everyone takes tragedy as a signal to sanctimoniously double down.
I thought we were good at tangling ourselves up but this is on another level entirely.
There's no resolution.