From Civil War politics to open war politics – and it’s becoming more uncivil by the day. We moved into some very strange territory yesterday. There is no government. And very few takers for the job.

In the meantime, a bitter tug-of-love battle over the National Interest has erupted between Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil.

A partnership government is the most stable way to secure it, says Fine Gael. A minority government is in the best interests of the National Interest, says Fianna Fáil.

The poor little National Interest, if they cared to look, is curled up in a ball on the sidelines, rocking from side to side with its hands over its ears while its parents bicker over which of them is more genuine in their love. Make it stop! Please, make it stop!

Yesterday afternoon, following a second family mediation session, the pair split in rather acrimonious fashion.

“Irreconcilable differences” is what it looks like. But neither party wants to be the first to walk away. This has brought about a previously unthinkable situation where Fianna Fáil appears determined to force the leader of Fine Gael in to becoming Taoiseach, whether he likes it or not.

What’s not to like? Plenty, it seems, from two men who would ordinarily take the hand off anybody offering them a mere sniff of the keys to the political kingdom. A bizarre state of affairs.

Fianna Fáil has undergone a miraculous transformation. One that would be hard to credit, if its leader wasn’t insisting so trenchantly that it is true. All those years of striving, ever striving, for that elusive prize of a single-party, overall majority were misguided ones. Fianna Fáil, by worshiping at the shrine of unencumbered power, had been engaged in a very “unhealthy” practice known as “majoritarianism”.

So said Micheál Martin, publicly washing his hands of such vulgar carry-on. “Majoritarianism” is wrong, he declared with the zeal of the newly converted. (Although if he only had more TDs elected last time out he’d fall off the wagon pretty quickly.)

Thumping surplus

No more notions for Fianna Fáil of getting into government with a thumping seat surplus. Micheál and his party are very happy to sit quietly in the corner and play with minority government.

Some might say that he is trying to have his cake and eat it. Opposition, Micheál? Yes please, don’t mind if we do. Somebody has to keep an eye on those Shinners.

Government, Micheál? Oh yes please, that too, but only at a remove and on our terms.

Meanwhile, Fine Gael is trying to tempt him with a different offering, in the National Interest. But the Fianna Fáil leader isn’t biting.

Enda Kenny is offering "history" on a plate. A full partnership government, no less, with a few Independents thrown in for the sport. But Micheál won't be no rotating taoiseach for nobody. He won't play Sundance to Enda's Butch. He just doesn't fancy it. He's sticking to his cake. It's much better for him, for Fianna Fáil and for the National Interest.

The drama went into overdrive when the two party leaders met for discussions, and Enda went down on one knee and proposed his partnership package. He was rebuffed.

Whereupon the two sides went into spin mode, with a miffed Fine Gael saying it couldn’t have been more generous or flexible with its 50-50 model and an affronted Fianna Fáil saying its old rival was trying to lure it in to an unhealthy relationship with soft words and political promises.

But around Leinster House, people were still predicting that the two old parties would find a way to bury the hatchet and form some sort of union, in the National Interest. The presence of a number of Independent TDs in the alliance could be the key.

Enda surfaced in the Dáil canteen at lunchtime, looking quite chipper. Unlike Micheál, who has been holding regular court there since the election, the acting Taoiseach hadn’t been seen around the place that much. But he was in good spirits, schmoozing passing Independents and dispensing manly thumps to visitors.

Threesome

“Never mind same-sex marriage,” he quipped. “We’re talking about a threesome.”

His Ministers were similarly putting themselves about, making a big show of spreading the milk of political kindness so nobody could accuse them of not trying to put a government together.

In the background, Fianna Fáil TDs were digging in their heels. No way would they be lured into Fine Gael’s web. Enda and Micheál were due to meet again in the afternoon. Back in room 716, located near the start of the ministerial corridor in a sort of political no man’s land.

How long would they be together? Eighteen minutes, to be precise. A brief encounter. It didn’t go well.

The acting Taoiseach infuriated the Fianna Fáil leader by accusing him of putting party interest before the National Interest. Both sides contradicted the other’s account of what happened.

Which is when the bickering began in earnest. The Fianna Fáil leader and a large contingent of deputies headed out to the plinth. But not before a Fine Gael official had been out to brief the media on their side of the story.

Micheál didn’t pull his punches, questioning the “integrity” of Fine Gael’s strategy. But he didn’t want to personalise the issue.

“Relationship is key to any engagement in politics and I would say, in some respects, that the last 24 hours left a lot to be desired,” he said. Enda said he didn’t want to talk about a minority government, he claimed.

The Kenny camp said this wasn't true. They emerged after the Fianna Fáil briefing: Simon Coveney, Frances Fitzgerald and Leo Varadkar wore their best "more in sorrow than in anger" faces.

“An historic missed opportunity,” said Coveney, as his colleagues expressed their disappointment at having been rejected. They have an uneasy shared political past. It “wasn’t easy” for them, no more than it would be easy for Fianna Fáil to sell this partnership model to their supporters, he lamented.

It was the haste with which their offer was thrown back at them which Fitzgerald found “worrying”. It was an “absolutely genuine” offer.

Varadkar spoke about people putting party interest before the National Interest. All the while, they talked of how radical and historic their proposal is. But it isn’t the sort of “new politics” that Fianna Fáil wants to see.

By teatime, the gulf between the two parties appeared intractable.

A colleague in town bumped in to former tánaiste and Labour leader Dick Spring.

“Are you enjoying the fun and games?” she asked him.

“It’s going to get very ugly,” predicted Dick.

The Dáil reconvenes on Thursday. What bets now on a general election? Interesting times ahead.