It's not the cost, the annoyance of a byelection, the stupidity of people not knowing their own citizenship status or the uncertainty over who should be in Parliament.
In the end, it's the arrogance of our MPs that really gets you. The sheer sense of entitlement that takes your breath away.
For over three months, Australians have been treated to the citizenship show.
In that time we've moved from a place of some sympathy for the individuals involved, to incredulity that so many could be caught up, to suspicion that more may be involved, to relief that the High Court was going to put an end to the madness.
But building throughout has been a sense of anger: that basic checking was not done by so many people. And that more responsibility has not been taken by those we elect to do the very solemn, important (and well-remunerated) job of being a parliamentarian.
While it's true the Greens' Scott Ludlam and Larissa Waters said sorry and quit their Senate seats once they realised they were dual citizens, and Matt Canavan stepped down from cabinet, his Nationals colleagues, Barnaby Joyce and Fiona Nash, shamelessly continued to sit in cabinet, make ministerial decisions and take their mighty ministerial pay even though things looked iffy. Stephen Parry, over there in the Senate president's chair, didn't say a word about his British father.
And when authorities - be they the High Court or the British Home Office - officially confirmed Joyce and co. were ineligible, there was no hint of apology or personal responsibility. Rather, you'd be forgiven for thinking they are the victims here.
After the High Court declared her invalid, Nash issued a statement about how she had put in "12 years of hard work" and was "really proud of the things I've been able to achieve". Nowhere in the detailed list of her achievements did she give the slightest snippet of regret that she sat in the Senate for more than a decade when she was not entitled to be there.
True, her former boss, former Nationals leader Joyce did apologise for the "inconvenience" of a byelection, but this was in general, not personal terms. And can best be understood as trying to ingratiate himself with New Englanders (i.e. silly High Court, please re-elect me), rather than level with them.
Tellingly, when he was asked about how much responsibility he took for the High Court decision, Joyce demurred.
"I had no reason to believe I was a citizen of any other country but Australia," he said, adding he was born in Tamworth (so there).
As for One Nation's booted senator, Malcolm Roberts, born in India to a Welsh father (thus lacking even the Tamworth Base Hospital fig leaf), he specifically said: "I do not apologise. I express my regret because I was wrong but it was genuinely my belief [that I was OK]."
Since July, when the citizenship saga blew up with all the precision of someone taking the lid off the blender in the middle of making soup, we've had no shortage of people expressing constitutional opinions. Everyone from the Prime Minister to the dude making your takeaway pizza has become an expert in how section 44 operates.
But strangely, no senior legislators have suggested anything to fix the hideous mess covering the entire Parliament (Attorney-General George Brandis' take is, "if anybody wants to make an allegation ... let them make that allegation"; Acting Labor leader Tanya Plibersek says, "There isn't any chaos that involves the Labor Party").
Neither the Coalition nor Labor have backed repeated calls from the Greens, some independents and an increasing number of backbenchers for an audit of MPs and their citizenship status. Or for a change to the constitution, to make it more accommodating of dual citizenship. Or for some other process to be added to electoral nominations, so we don't end up with a Parliament full of ineligibles in the future.
The whole thing has been left to the media to investigate in its imperfect and piecemeal fashion. Which means even though the Court of Disputed Returns handed down its clear omnijudgment last week, this provided no certainty that everyone else left in Parliament was good to stay.
Indeed, before you could say, "Chief Justice Susan Kiefel", on Tuesday, Parry revealed he'd been wondering about whether his British-born father might pose a problem.
Before he resigned, Parry was one of the most senior office holders in Australia (only the Queen, Governor-General, state governors and Prime Minister were ahead of him). And he earned 75 per cent more than a backbencher. Yet even though he'd signed off on six senators' referrals to the High Court, he miraculously didn't question or reveal his own situation – and say, step aside from his ultra prestigious position – until now. It's amazing stuff.
Throughout this whole saga, people have blamed the constitution for being outdated, the High Court for being tough and politics for being a rough game. Politicians aren't great at apologising at the best of times, but you'd think they might make an exception here.
Meanwhile, the lack of any momentum to guarantee Australians the MPs they elect are legally entitled to be elected is breathtaking. By continuing to pretend this doesn't need a long-term fix, our leaders are treating voters like total dingbats.