I’m scared that a grand coalition might work!

Went off to London for a few days, came back, still no sign of a government. To an Englishman, it just doesn’t get more Irish than this. Dáil Éireann’s off for Easter, see you in April, have a mighty break! Why wouldn’t you?

No government, no rush, everyone’s having talks about talks, repeatedly adding numbers hoping they come to different totals, but numbers have that infuriating habit of not doing what they’re told.

Floating rudderless into the über-hyped Easter Rising Centennial, this nation could be on the brink of finally celebrating the end of its civil war, but ah sure, what’s the rush?

I grew up in a country where you sat up all election night, and around dawn knew who’d won and lost. The First Past The Post electoral system is mightily flawed, but it is not mysterious.

To my mystified foreign eyes, the lethargy shown by Irish politicians towards forming a government is only matched by the resigned acceptance of the Irish people that this will take its time.

The way the Irish feel comfortable about having no government serves two purposes: firstly it illustrates yet again that - what a shock! - the world does not crumble without government; secondly, more seriously, it displaces the importance of your vote.

During all these blah protracted blah political blah negotiations, your vote becomes diluted, detached and finally traded away in negotiations that bear no reflection of the policies or ideals for which you voted.

When I arrived in Ireland in 1992, there was a General Election, and I was deeply shocked at how long it took to form a government. Albert Reynolds eventually persuaded his supposed arch enemy, Labour’s Dick Spring, to jump into bed with him and my eyebrows have scarcely dropped since.

Back then, in my first flush of love for this country, I wrestled to grasp the essentials of Ireland’s unique political arena, writing in this noble rag of a cutesy analogy in which the pint had been poured, the votes cast, and in the fullness of time the division of head from body would appear.

Ah, young love is adorable. I still love this country, but after 20-odd years, it’s more of a warts’n’all affair.

To read Charlie’s column in full, see this week’s Galway City Tribune.