Who needs Netflix when you've got this stuff? I'm emotionally exhausted from the ordeal of the last week's drama from within the National Party that has spilled over into the public domain.
It's a feeling probably shared by many observers, from the parliamentary press gallery in the thick of it to the National-voting 60-somethings in Kerikeri going "what the hell?"
While the setting might be Parliament, and there are high political stakes (especially in the politics of perception that is everything these days), the unwinding of Jami-Lee Ross has been pure tragic theatre.
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The beauty of tragedy — and I mean that not as a slight to the people Ross has hurt, his family or the man himself — is that the drama allows us to reflect on our own human failings.
Who hasn't misused power? Even if a minor matter that no one else would think much of.
Who hasn't been prideful and made bad decisions?
Who hasn't been tempted by sexual relations with someone other than their spouse, whether acted upon or not?
And who hasn't suffered mental health issues before?
Tragic art done well (by a Shakespeare or Scorsese) and real-life tragic drama can force us to recognise part of ourselves and the conflicts at the heart of being human. That can be uncomfortable, as the Ross saga surely has been to witness.
Whatever our compulsion to judge, we can't help but relate to the personal failings and the cost.