But, to misquote George Orwell, some losers are more equal than others. At the moment, the man at the centre of the scandal retains his position, his salary, the support of his National Party colleagues. And as he showed in his extraordinary press conference on Friday, he is digging in. On Thursday it was announced Joyce would take leave next week, so everyone can dodge the embarrassment of him as acting prime minister in the midst of the storm. Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull announces changes to the ministerial code of conduct. Credit:Alex Ellinghausen The situation is precarious. But, for the moment at least, Joyce looks set to continue in his job while his new partner cares for their newborn, free of any questions of how he will manage to balance a demanding role with new fatherhood, not to mention any aspersions cast about his capacity to work efficiently against the backdrop of such a cripplingly complex family situation.

Joyce also appears to face zero consequences under the ministerial code of conduct, because the Prime Minister accepts, however reluctantly, that Joyce’s pregnant lover was not technically his “partner” at the relevant times of her employment in ministerial offices, including his own. Loading There is no doubt Joyce is suffering great humiliation and distress. It is written on his face. It’s probably a good thing he has a week of (one assumes paid) leave to gather himself. One New England voter put it well this week when she told Fairfax Media reporter Michael Koziol: “You have to live with the choices you make.” But for women it is still the case, even in the pro-feminist 21st century, that they also live with the choices their men make.

Women pay the consequences for men’s failures and weaknesses far more often than the reverse is true. Let’s compare the toll on the women in Joyce’s life to the toll on him so far. Vikki Campion left her job as a political staffer after it became impossible to deny her relationship with Joyce. It is a sigh-inducing, common pattern: when two employees have a scandalising affair, whether or not any professional misconduct is involved, the woman almost never continues in her job. The man, usually the more powerful or “important” employee, often does.

It’s hard to imagine Campion going back to any political staffer’s job following her maternity leave. It’s equally difficult to imagine her returning to journalism at The Daily Telegraph, which has pursued her with such vigour and published her image across its front page. This week the Tele published a 2016 photograph of Campion in a short skirt, with Joyce, sitting next to her, apparently ogling her legs. It was a shocking image, and one which managed to dehumanise Campion as the subject of Joyce’s (seemingly) lascivious gaze, while inviting everyone else to join in. What was she doing wearing such a short skirt to work anyway, right? Coverage of Campion this week has included bountiful references to her physical appearance.

While some have attested to her skills as a media adviser, those skills didn’t make her indispensable to the National Party. But Joyce? Well, they can’t do without him. And what of Natalie Joyce? She gave up paid work to be a full-time mother and wife, supporting her husband’s career, only to be abandoned (so it’s been reported) when it had reached its zenith. She no longer receives a taxpayer-funded spousal allowance. No doubt Joyce is worth his $416,000 a year salary - politicians work very hard. They endure long hours and arduous travel. But you know what would be even harder?

Raising four children without much gap in their ages while living in rural and remote locations, virtually as a single mother (by Joyce’s own admission). The toughest thing about that gig would be its unrelenting nature, its lack of recognition, its absence of taxpayer-funded staff. For Mrs Joyce, there was no Qantas Club lounge to unwind in at the end of the gruelling day. There was barely anyone to make her a cup of tea. Even News Limited columnist Andrew Bolt, not known for his feminist leanings, thundered this week about “the women left behind after helping their husbands build their lives and careers”. “They perform those thousands of trivial tasks,” Bolt wrote, “from the washing and the cooking to paying bills - that keep their family life ticking smoothly, but which will never make them famous and never feature on any CV”.

Why does it matter if these women have jobs? Particularly when they have the joy and comfort of babies instead? Because without careers, they are at the mercy of the consequences of the choices of the men who financially support them. And sometimes those choices are abysmal. No one would say that women shouldn’t stay home to look after their children, if that is their choice. But we cannot pretend the risk involved is shared equally between the sexes. For my money, that is the most depressing aspect of what is already a thoroughly dismal story.