Barnaby Joyce under the Microscope, page-100

Miranda Devine has an interesting take on the rapport between the two, and she doesn't think much of the femme fatale theory. (Excerpt only)

ALMOST exactly a year ago, I had an after-work drink at a bar in the Sydney CBD with Barnaby Joyce and his press secretary Vikki Campion, who I knew slightly from her time at the Daily Telegraph covering, ironically enough, urban affairs.

Vikki is a vivacious and immensely likeable Queensland country girl, tall and rangy, with a long mane of sun-kissed hair. She’s earthy, loud, a chain-smoker and, like her boss, impetuous. Not your classic femme fatale.

They got on like a house on fire, with an easy familiarity born of spending gruelling weeks on what Nationals call the “wombat trail”, campaigning across regional areas, engaging in Barnaby’s speciality of pub diplomacy.

We spent more than half the time that evening chatting out on the footpath, as Barnaby and Vikki fagged away companionably. If you’ve ever been a nicotine addict you’ll understand the easy camaraderie of that dwindling band of societal outcasts, the footpath cigarette smokers.

It was clear there was affection and regard between them. But there was no obvious frisson of sexual tension, none of the charged physicality or guardedness that usually leaks from cheating couples.

Then, again, Barnaby is not what we thought he was, and we went our separate ways before much booze was consumed.

Five months later Vikki was pregnant.
https://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/r...g/news-story/96bc850b8f6d2b77c8d7768c2c6befa2