The welcome dullness of Australian politics

But it's hard to be energised by it.

I say this to my Australian friends as they hug their heads in a crouch of despair, rocking back and forth, wailing about the state of the country.

To which I say: just try politics in Britain if you want to know what true dysfunction feels like.

I know the chattering class in Canberra rush this way and that shrieking about whatever twist or turn has emanated from the Hill. Who's up, who's down - that kind of thing.

But in truth, the difference between the parties in Canberra is not a gulf (cue: social media outrage). Centre-right and centre-left are not that far apart.

In Britain, the government is dominated by those who look to the Trumpian United States and the opposition by the far left.

It's true that Australian politicians can do a nice line in insult, particularly against women, but parliament in Canberra hasn't descended to the barely functional Westminster arena of surface politeness masking seething enmity.

In Australia, you disagree with each other on a few important issues (what to do about climate change - but, apart from on the fringes, you do not disagree on the fundamental fact of it and its human cause). You are divided on workplace legislation and taxes but you do not doubt the basic sanity of your opponents nor their patriotism.

The tribes still talk to each other.

It is not the British way any more. The papers have just revealed that the government in Westminster fears shortages of medicine, rising food prices and clogged up ports and roads if Britain divorces from the European Union on October 31 with no deal in place.

I have a friend in London who is on drugs for her cancer. The medicines come from the European Union and she is genuinely worried about whether these life-savers will be available from midnight on October 31 - that sudden and that soon.

Sheep farmers fear they will have to slaughter their flocks when and if their main market is suddenly inaccessible.

But the immediate consequences of Brexit are not the true reasons for despairing of British politics.

Something much worse is going on.

In Britain, families fall out. Insults are hurled, even within the same party. Contempt is pervasive.

One Conservative apparatchik called a Conservative minister "thick as mince" and "lazy as a toad". If your allies are calling you that, what must your foes be thinking?

A Tory grandee, Sir Max Hastings, says of the current British Tory Prime Minister (whom he once employed as a journalist), "Johnson would not recognise truth, whether about his private or political life, if confronted by it in an identity parade."

Mr Johnson declines to say how many children he has.

MPs get voicemail messages saying, "The only thing that will be extended is your neck."

One MP has already been murdered. During the referendum, Labour's Jo Cox was shot three times and stabbed by a white supremacist.

Racism is rising. The polling company, Opinium, said: "The study suggests racists are feeling increasingly confident in deploying abuse or discrimination. The proportion of people from an ethnic minority who said they had been targeted by a stranger rose from 64 per cent in January 2016 to 76 per cent in February 2019."

Support for Scotland breaking away from the (Dis)United Kingdom is rising. Violence in Northern Ireland is rising at the prospect of a hard border with the Irish Republic. A journalist has been murdered.

Even in my own little Wales, there are sizable demonstrations for independence for the first time in living memory.

Britain is going though a crisis of identity. It's as though the class born to rule has realised that the Empire's gone, old boy. It is thrashing around to work out where it fits in these days. References to the last war - from the jingoistic movie, Dunkirk, on - are two a devalued penny.

I choose to live in Canberra and pay taxes to the Australian Tax Office partly because of the madness which has infected Britain and because of the sanity which Australia retains.

When I met the Australian who would become my wife, she took me to a party full of Australians. None of them was remotely interested in how important I was or where I fitted into some sort of impenetrable minutely graded class hierarchy.

In Britain, that would have been the first question asked, albeit in subtle ways. How important are you? Do I need to waste my time talking to you?

Count your blessings lest you take them for granted.

For 150 years, Australians have been among the best off people on the planet. The economy has grown every year for nearly three decades. You have some of the best universities in the world. The Australian National University vies with the best anywhere.

Of course, this country's not perfect. Innovation? Californians aren't losing any sleep.

But it is not infected by the delusion, rancour and hatred - yes, hatred - which Britons are getting used to.

The British live in interesting times. Politics there is exciting. What a curse!