Some advice for Barnaby Joyce

As sure as death and taxes, there is another thing that no one can avoid. Fucking up is something we all do all the time, and the thing about fucking up is that you have to admit to it and learn from it. I fuck up all of the time, and thankfully my fuck ups can be hosed down and remain contained.
Of course, if you are a public figure and you fuck up, you are going to get press. So I asked one of my smartest, long time friend to advise Barnaby Joyce (retrospectively) on how he should have handling his current shit storm. She is a PR specialist with a crisis management. And here is what she has to say.
A long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away, I was a spin doctor for a politician and a few corporates.
It was actually a bit boring at times, except when I was yelled at, in the press gallery, by David Penberthy, of News Limited.
This happened after allegations arose that the colourful Joe Tripodi had sexually harassed a Democrats staffer. Yes that’s how old I am. There was a Democrat in the upper house.
That was the only excitement. Although we did lap it up, whispering and engaging in innuendo.
But things are now on a whole new level – Barnaby Joyce is embroiled in a gigantic mess of his own making.
They could have made this so much easier on themselves by not talking to the media. Full-stop.
Stop theorising about the baby’s parentage Barnaby, telling people you weren’t paid by 7 News and then asking for privacy.
As the Scientologists would say, you are a fair game, thou judger of same-sex marriage.
Anyway this is what I would recommend to anyone in this type of trouble, but I don’t think the Beetroot One takes advice.
If Barnaby was smart he would have released photos of the baby & Vicki on his Twitter. That would reduce their value to the paparazzi. Then say nothing to the media. If they are worried about $$$, she can go back to work like I did when my baby was five months old.
He is not Princess Diana, a Kardashian, Beyoncé or JFK Jr. The media will move on, especially if you live a normal life. Taking out the bins, hosing & hanging out washing.

Journalist Julia Baird recently wrote that Vicki’s friends needed to do an intervention. I’m so up for an intervention, as is my friend Madamoiselle R.

This is what we’d do.  We would hide them on one of Indonesia’s  thousands of islands. (Barnaby is not invited.) I would get staff so the new mum could rest, employ security and make friends with the local police. She’d have mani pedis and R and I would stay alert, but not alarmed.

I would also get big guard dogs.

We’d then upload pictures and even some Instagram moments with Vicki speaking. There won’t be much value in stalking her after she tells it in her own words.

There may be better ideas.  If you have them, please let Mrs Woog know.

I hate myself for saying this, but I am going to watch the interview..

Are you going to watch it?