We’ve all experienced that immediate panic after saying something stupid. The hot rush of shame pumps through our bodies and we are gripped by the forlorn hope that we could rewind time. The claustrophobic fear that we are forever diminished in the eyes of those who witnessed our stupidity causes genuine panic. We are convinced that this is a moment from which we will never recover.

Reading this may trigger you into remembering some daft thing you once said at a party or in a meeting. Imagine for a second not that you would never do this again but that, when you did, you would feel none of the usual shame and embarrassment. Now you know how it feels to be one of Theresa May’s cabinet ministers. The glut of ignorance we’ve had to suffer recently has highlighted a major problem: we are being led by people who don’t know what they are on about and are unabashed about admitting it in public. If ignorance were an energy source, you could power the country purely on former Brexit secretaries.

Dominic Raab’s revelation that he “hadn’t quite understood the full extent” of how “we are particularly reliant on the Dover-Calais crossing” for trade was incredible, not just because of how infuriatingly ignorant it was but also because he managed to overshadow that disaster of a sentence in the same speech by suggesting that he’d never previously realised that Britain is an island. Wait until he finds out what gravity is. We’re told that Raab is an ambitious man. Apparently that ambition doesn’t extend to looking at maps or reading his then department’s own impact assessments, which have been warning about the effects on the port of Dover for years. If Raab were a toddler, watching his cognitive development would be charming. Having him say it when he was the Brexit secretary, however, was depressing and confirmed our worst fears – the architects of Brexit are no better informed than your average pub bullshitter. It’s politics by tabloid, a detail-free vortex where ignorance isn’t just tolerated but celebrated. Even in the context of the chaos of Brexit, Raab’s admission was a shameless demonstration of arrogance that sends a message to the rest of the world: Britain is a joke.

Raab had at least taken attention away from Karen Bradley, the secretary of state for Northern Ireland. If you share my concern that the Tories have been ludicrously dismissive about concerns around the Irish border, you probably destroyed furniture when you heard Bradley’s admission that she “didn’t understand things like when elections are fought, for example, in Northern Ireland – people who are nationalists don’t vote for unionist parties and vice versa … Actually, the unionist parties fight the elections against each other in unionist communities and nationalists in nationalist communities.” Are these people even interested in politics? How could an MP not know that, let alone the secretary of state for Northern Ireland? I’d be amazed if any other MPs didn’t know that. Which means that May chose the only MP who knows nothing about Northern Ireland to represent it in cabinet just at the time when an expert is needed. Which, by the way, is all the time.

These aren’t just startling admissions of ignorance, they are revealing more about a class of cabinet-level “talent” who are apparently uncurious about politics, people and the effect that decisions have on them. At this rate I wouldn’t be surprised if the health secretary Matt Hancock popped up and said: “It’s really cool being health secretary, I’ve just discovered these things called hospitals. Have you heard of them? Wow. Just wow. They like, operate on people and stuff. Some of them even have an Upper Crust in reception. I had no idea!” At a time of great jeopardy for our economy and our security, we’ve got into the habit of appointing clowns to serious office. Not just any old clowns, though – clowns who are happy to show off their silly makeup. It would be like Fulham FC – currently facing the prospect of a relegation battle – choosing to appoint its mascot, Billy the Badger, to manage the final few games. In fancy dress.

Politics, while still full of decent, talented and well-meaning people, is becoming a pedestal for the ignorant. If politics is the art of the possible, surely it’s possible to have better politicians? I get plenty of material out of this crop, of course. They’re a gift to a topical comedian, but I increasingly find myself laughing about these things through gritted teeth. As a citizen I’m outraged at how the government and opposition are being run. Incompetent politicians make it easier to write routines and jokes, but I’d rather the country was well-run and I had to work a bit harder to find material. And if that’s not sacrifice, I don’t know what is. For now, I’ll keep attacking our rulers through the medium of standup comedy, which I’ve only just discovered involves telling jokes to audiences.

• Matt Forde starts his nationwide Brexit Through the Gift Shop standup tour at London’s Southbank Centre on 1 and 5 December and his Political Party Podcast Xmas Specials with special guests at the Leicester Square theatre on the 19 and 20 December