“It needs to be said: Barnaby Joyce is a really, really bad boyfriend.”

Video by Sunday Night

Former deputy prime minister Barnaby Joyce is many things.

He’s a man who started a vendetta against two famous dogs and (rather unnecessarily, really) threatened to kill them.

He’s a man who staunchly opposed same sex marriage, preaching the importance of a traditional family, before leaving his wife of 24 years for his pregnant girlfriend.

He’s a man who repeated the phrase “let private matters remain private” to Leigh Sales on The 7.30 Report in February so many times that we wondered whether he was actually… broken, then months later decided to sell his story for a modest six figures to one of Australia’s major television networks.

He’s also, it’s time to point out, a really shitty boyfriend.

Just weeks after the public learned about the pregnancy of Joyce’s ex-staffer, Vikki Campion, with whom he had been having an affair, Joyce thought he would make a relevant but also highly respectful comment about the situation.

The invasion of privacy, of course, was “outrageous,” and he couldn’t believe the audacity of the media to draw attention to his private relationship. But just as an aside, for anyone interested, the paternity of the child was a bit of a “grey area”.

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The baby would be raised as his, Joyce very nobly stated. It made no difference to him whether he was the biological father. But just for the record, Vikki Campion was having a lot of 'the sex' around the time her baby was conceived.

Just FYI.

Now, Joyce has found another way to throw his 33-year-old partner under the bus. The Australian public were overwhelmingly furious to find out that the couple, whose relationship blossomed while their salaries were being paid with taxpayer dollars, are selling their story to Channel 7's Sunday Night for $150,000.

Should a sitting member of parliament really be making such a substantial sum of money for a story about their dysfunctional relationship?

'Well, honey, hold my hat,' Joyce probably said to Campion as he decided to sell her out for a second time.

In an interview with The Australian, Joyce said it was actually his partner who wanted the money from the Sunday Night story.

"Remember there are other people in this interview, being Vikki and Seb, so if it was just an interview with me as a politician, sure, I am not going to charge for that," he said.

"But that is not what they wanted. They wanted an interview obviously to get Vikki’s side of the story and like most mothers she said, 'Seeing as I am being screwed over and there are drones and everything over my house in the last fortnight, paparazzi waiting for me, if everybody else is making money then [I am] going to make money out of it’."

"Why is everyone attacking me when they could be attacking Vikki?" Image via AAP.

I think we can all agree baby Sebastian is also a little bit to blame. For being born, for sometimes crying, etc, etc.

But at the very crux of Joyce's tendency to turn the attention to his partner as soon as he becomes the target of criticism, is this: he's a really, terrible boyfriend.

Let me share an anecdote.

Last night, I was at dinner with my boyfriend and his family.

I was really hungry. Absurdly hungry. Too-hungry-to-be-out-to-dinner-with-other-humans hungry.

So when we ordered, I nudged my boyfriend. 'Hey,' I whispered. 'Can you order some bread too?'

I was a little embarrassed. I didn't really want everyone to know it was me who wanted the bread. Dinner was with his family, so the power was in his favour, and it would be a little more comfortable if it was him who wanted needed the bread.

You know what my boyfriend didn't do?

Stand up and announce to the restaurant:

CLARE WANTS BREAD.

I DON'T WANT IT, IT'S CLARE WHO WANTS IT.

SHE'S REALLY HUNGRY.

Ha-ha-ha kill me.

THE BREAD COSTS $3.50, AND ALSO CLARE WANTS IT.

NOT ME.

I DIDN'T WANT THE BREAD. IF IT WAS JUST ME I PROBABLY WOULDN'T HAVE ORDERED IT.

BUT I AM.

BECAUSE CLARE WANTS IT.

That didn't happen.

Because, thankfully, I'm not going out with Barnaby Joyce.

Vikki Campion, however, finds herself being bread-shamed in restaurants frequently. Like when bread-shaming is a metaphor for questioning the paternity of your child and/or putting a spotlight on your financial negotiations in a public forum.

It's rude and it's selfish and it's weird, and everyone knows that shutting the hell up about the private and potentially unflattering conversations that go on behind closed doors is literally the most basic requirement of being a good partner.

Former deputy prime minister Barnaby Joyce is many things.

But right now, he's being a truly terrible boyfriend.

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