With all its faults our political system in the UK seems positively sensible and straightforward when compared to the five ring circus that grinds out the parties' nominees for the Presidency of the USA every four years.
And then when he or she is finally elected, the Senate and Congress of the day seem to decide whether they like the cut of their jib and will pay any attention whatsoever to their policies.
At least our system whereby the party with the most votes chooses its leader (well sort of) results in an administration that can function and get stuff done.
I am in Baltimore for a few days and to while away the time waiting for my luggage to join me have been following the inexorable march of Donald Trump towards securing the Republican nomination, as it now seems inevitable that he will.
The thought that this ludicrously coiffed intemperate billionaire with his xenophobic and bar room rhetoric could conceivably become the leader of the most powerful nation on Earth invites one to come up with a domestic comparison. But it is impossible.
There is no one quite so bizarrely inappropriate in this country that might be used to highlight the awfulness of the prospect. I suppose if Bernard Manning were still with us he might have been a candidate for worst idea for Prime Minister, but he at least was occasionally funny.
It is perplexing and alarming that there are sufficient citizens in the USA who think Trump is a good idea to encourage him to rabble rouse so vigorously. Having said that, his competition frankly seems to be only slightly less militaristic and intolerant. They just use more palatable language. They all seem to have God on their side, they all want to have more guns, more soldiers and their attitude to immigrants is somewhat strange in a country where every other surname betrays ancestries well removed from the shores of the Potomac.
But whatever you may think about Cameron or Blair or any of their predecessors, I cannot imagine them using the words 'bimbo', 'dog' or 'fat pig' to describe women or suggesting that supporters beat up hecklers. We really are two nations divided by a common language sometimes.
And now I must go and buy some clean clothes, as my luggage is still whirling around forlornly probably on some distant alien carousel. I blame Donald Trump.