It feels longer than 10 days. Much longer. With the Conservative leadership hustings into their second week, the feeling of existential despair now feels total. What novelty there might once have been has long since worn off. Even Jeremy Hunt and Boris Johnson can barely keep their eyes open as they stumble their way through tired scripts. There is no sense of edge or danger. Of the next prime minister being tested. Just a continuing beauty parade of the incompetent and the inadequate. Lip service to democracy.

There was barely a ripple of applause for the arrival of Hunt in Belfast. Not just because there wasn’t much interest in Ken doll – there was no greater enthusiasm for the appearance of Johnson later – but also because there are only 500 Tory members in Northern Ireland and most of them had better things to do with their life than turn up for something entirely meaningless. The others had merely come for the tea and biscuits.

Overnight, Hunt seemed to have forgotten his 10-point Colonel Kurtz no-deal action plan and drifted back into his more familiar role of Barbie’s squeeze. His stump speech was delivered with all the passion of a man on heavy medication. Halfway through, he seemed to vaguely remember he was in Northern Ireland and dropped in a reference to Game of Thrones. Which is the one thing about Northern Ireland that people who don’t give a toss about Northern Ireland actually know.

“I really care about … um … er … Northern Ireland,” he said. Though not the 56% of the country who had voted remain in the EU referendum. Instead, Ken was totally focused on giving Northern Ireland something it really didn’t want. The backstop had to go, he insisted. But luckily, in Nicky Morgan and Greg Hands, he had two IT wizards who had come up with a technological solution that would keep the border frictionless.

The MC for the day, the radio presenter Iain Dale, briefly woke up to point out that even by the standards of this leadership contest, this was a lie too far. “Hmm,” Ken grumbled. It was typical of the EU to deny that something that didn’t exist actually didn’t exist. Clearly bored, Dale then asked Hunt which Game of Thrones character he most identified with. “I know it’s a cliche,” Ken smiled coyly. “But it’s Jon Snow.” Because that was the only character he could name. So he probably had no idea he had chosen the one who ends up in exile after killing the blonde psychopath who was about to destroy the world. The chronicle of a death foretold.

Audience questions quickly petered out as Ken promised to spend billions of pounds he didn’t have on problems he didn’t understand, and though he didn’t want a no-deal Brexit, he’d do it anyway – just for the hell of it – if Johnny Foreigner didn’t appreciate his entrepreneurial skills. By the end, everyone had given up and had taken to asking him about his favourite colour and whether he preferred dogs to cats. Just to fill time.

Still, at least Ken had some idea of where he was. Which was more than could be said for Johnson, who gave one of his laziest performances yet. There’s a fine line between being utterly bland to avoid screwing up and not appearing to give a shit. And Boris was well the wrong side of it. Good evening, Glasgow!

When asked to explain the continuing failure of the power-sharing executive in Stormont, he made Karen Bradley seem like Mo Mowlam. When asked to talk about Game of Thrones, he burbled on about Star Wars. Which had been filmed in the Republic of Ireland. It was almost as if he was going out of his way to cause offence. Yes, he’d happily turn parts of Northern Ireland into a tax-free centre for smuggling. Though he couldn’t say what ports might qualify. And he’d build the bridge between Scotland and Ireland that every civil engineer said was impossible to build. There was no detail over which he had the slightest grasp. No wonder he struggles to remember how many children he has.

Piffle, paffle, wiffle, waffle, Johnson ad-libbed. Everyone just ought to stop being so glum. A no-deal Brexit was nothing to be worried about. The negative claims being made were being wildly overdone. Just believe. By now, Boris had lost the entire room, as everyone had tuned into Philip Hammond’s final outing as chancellor at Treasury questions. Freewheelin’ Phil had been determined to go down fighting. Ken and Boris were complete fantasists, he shrugged. A no-deal departure would cost £95bn minimum. Money we didn’t have. And he’d happily vote with Labour to prevent them from bankrupting the country.

Johnson was still rambling when Dale cut him short. “Let’s wrap this thing up,” he said. Enough was enough. Best to end the embarrassment. Would the last Tory left in Northern Ireland please turn out the lights?