You might be familiar with the phrase “jumping the shark”. It’s the moment a television show tips from watchable into self-parody. The phrase comes from an episode of Happy Days where the Fonz, having apparently exhausted all available human storylines, literally jumps a shark on water skis. The show kept going, technically speaking, but everyone knew the magic had gone. What followed was motion without momentum, noise without purpose.
I’ve been thinking about that phrase in the context of our much-maligned local Assembly. For me, this year was the moment it finally jumped the shark. Not just another wobble, not another bout of performative outrage or procedural farce, but the point where any lingering claim to usefulness evaporated.
It still sits. It still talks. It still produces press releases and carefully choreographed rows. But like a long-running sitcom that no longer knows why it exists, it now feels detached from the problems it was meant to solve. The rituals continue, the cast remains, yet the plot has quietly disappeared.
Jumping the shark doesn’t mean something stops overnight. It means you keep watching out of habit, hoping for a return to form, while knowing deep down that the thing you once defended has become a hollow version of itself. That’s where I am now.
There is not a lot of faith in our institutions, to say the least. Over in the Irish News, Brian Feeney commented today:
People talk about reform but there won’t be any. Talk about ending so-called mandatory coalition is for the birds. It’s impossible to exclude a party representing one of the two political blocs here. The fundamental problem is that SF and the DUP do not agree on the purpose of the institutions of the Good Friday Agreement. They don’t share a common aim, let alone agree to share power. The DUP don’t even agree with the principles of the GFA, never have, never will.
What makes the current stand-off more debilitating is the continuing fragmentation of unionism as the TUV creeps up on the DUP. The DUP’s leadership has chosen to follow the TUV’s road to nowhere, the logical conclusion of which is to prevent the Stormont institutions from working. On the evidence of 2025, the DUP have succeeded in that. It’s a strange position for a unionist party to adopt. You’d think they would want what passes for a devolved administration in the north to work.
As this one drifts directionless, there’s only one conclusion. After 25 years, the experiment has failed. It’ll drag on exactly the same until next Christmas, if it lasts that long.
His fellow commentator in the Irish News, Deirdre Heenan was equally pessimistic:
There is growing support for reform of the institutions, as the current set-up is not delivering good governance. Sham fights and meaningless motions are as good as it gets. Some are advocating for major reforms such as replacing the mandatory coalition with a voluntary arrangement, whilst others are supportive of more modest changes.
However, structural change alone cannot deliver effective government. There is room for institutional reform, but any system will only work if the key actors share a sense of common purpose. The importance of political culture cannot be underestimated. Making government work requires compromise and cooperation. Moving from the politics of protest, posturing and populism to problem-solving and pragmatism remains a significant challenge.
We are heading towards a financial crisis as we move deeper and deeper into debt, deliberately overspending and refusing to countenance revenue-raising. Fiscal responsibility is a pipe dream. The north is spiralling downwards, yet there is an unwillingness to tackle complex problems. There are no new ideas, no major reforms, no policy innovation and no sign of the much-heralded journey of transformation. If the current administration, which is marked by dysfunction, delay and division, stumbles on directionless, then it is a government in name only.
Will the Assembly make it to the 2027 elections? And more importantly, do we care?
I’ve lost whatever hope I once had in this place. Not the theatrical kind of despair, not the huff-and-puff “this is outrageous” sort. Just a quieter conclusion that the experiment has run its course and is no longer delivering what it promised.
At this point, the most appealing option to me is some form of joint-rule technocracy. Not because it’s exciting, but precisely because it isn’t. I don’t want grandstanding, symbolism, or permanent constitutional psychodrama. I want anonymous civil servants to get on with the unglamorous business of running health, education, infrastructure, housing. People whose names I don’t know, whose faces I don’t see, and who don’t feel the need to perform their identities every time a camera appears.
There’s a lot to be said for boring. Boring is hospitals that function. Boring is schools that aren’t permanently caught in political crossfire. Boring is roads fixed because they need fixing, not because they make a good press release. Boring is competence without commentary.
We’ve had decades of political drama now. Enough crises, enough brinkmanship, enough “historic moments” to last a lifetime. Drama might energise activists and fill airtime, but it’s a terrible way to run basic public services. I’m not asking for inspiration anymore. I’m asking for reliability.
I don’t need vision. I need execution. I don’t need speeches. I need systems that work. If that means less politics and more administration, so be it. At this stage, being governed competently by people who don’t crave attention feels less like a downgrade and more like a relief.
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