The $190k job that Barnaby Joyce organised for Vikki Campion was the story of last week. Turns out, it’s perfectly ok. What?
It was the sweated brow on top of the heaving clusterfuck that defined last week: Barnaby’s bundle of Joyce. The nation drew back in shock when we discovered that a) his boys could swim and b) did so in a genetic pool that wasn’t managed by his wife. That was enough of a shock, but as the calendar rolled around to Friday, we became aware that Barnaby organised a plum position for Vikki Campion, the woman who was absolutely not his wife.
So, it was suddenly everyone’s business, as sex-enabled nepotism funded by the tax-payer is a neddy no-no, up with this we will not put. And we were right, up to an hour ago, when the office of our PM said this, and I’m not even kidding: “…the Deputy Prime Minister did not breach the ministerial code of conduct because Ms Campion was not his partner at the time of the staff appointments.”
Now for those playing at home, those dragging index fingers down the spine of a dusty tome marked Parliamentary Minutae Vol. II, will know that the words spoken by the spokesman are correct. The section states “close relatives and partners are not to be appointed to positions in their ministerial or electorate offices and must not be employed in the offices of other members of the executive government without the Prime Minister’s express approval”.
Just so I have this straight. Wife, no. Whoever else you diddle, welcome aboard.
This is the stance we’re taking? Ok. But this sort of broken moral logic may work in the sense of the law, but surely, if there was a time to make a stand, Mal, surely this is it. Applying more of the same to justify this bullshit, especially as the vast majority of the voting public stands opposed to it, is political seppuku. For us, or maybe just for yourself, it might be time to turn the beetroot over to those who brandish the tomatoes.