Nightmare of wasting bureaucracy’s time at the Irish passport office in London

Kafkaesque is defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary as “having a nightmarishly bizarre, complex or illogical quality”, and is defined by me as “the Irish passport office in London”.

A place where the air is made of despairing sighs, and tumbleweeds of hair torn out in frustration blown between the plastic seats.

Where the condensation running down the windows is the anguished tears of applicants, and the phone number you ring in desperation after sitting there all day is a recorded announcement telling you they are too busy to answer the phone.