The reasons were less conspiratorial than they were journalistic: we couldn’t stand it up. The rumours were so widely circulated it seemed clear there was some truth to them. But until now, no one, within the press gallery or outside it, could firm them up to a publishable standard. Within our newsroom, there was debate over what resources, if any, should be devoted to confirm the rumours. In a newsroom that is hollowed out by cost-cutting, every reporter who is assigned to cover a love child expose, is a reporter who cannot write about national energy policy (which affects far more of our readers), or about the latest factional dispute in the Labor Party, or about the citizenship crisis. At the same time, we knew it would probably be broken, sooner or later, by the News Corp tabloids.

The Daily Telegraph had a bite at it in October when it published a front-page story with the headline, “Barnaby Joyce battles vicious innuendo as Coalition fears citizenship woe”. The story was written using a circular logic that it was reporting rumours that were reported to be impacting on Joyce’s chances at his (then-probable) upcoming byelection. “Embattled Deputy Prime Minister Barnaby Joyce is in the grip of a deeply personal crisis that has now spilled into his public life at the very time he is fighting to save his political career,” read the first paragraph. The story has raised - again - questions about the treatment of male and female MPs. Credit:Peter Hardin If it had been published in full, could the story have changed the crucial byelection result in New England? During the campaign it was reported the Deputy Prime Minister had broken up with his wife and was living with his sister. Rumours about an extra-marital affair and a pregnant “mistress” (terrible word!) were widely known throughout the electorate. His long-time nemesis, former New England MP Tony Windsor, frequently tweeted about it. At one point Joyce was hounded by a man who harangued him about his family situation in a pub.

None of it affected his popularity. Joyce won the byelection with a huge swing to him of 7.21 per cent. More broadly, would the story have served the public interest? It was undoubtedly newsworthy. Joyce, a Jesuit-educated Catholic, has long proclaimed the sanctity of traditional marriage. He has often spoken of his conservative “family” values. During the debate on same-sex marriage Joyce advocated against it, saying he believed marriage was a heterosexual institution that had “stood the test of time” and was “a special relationship between a man and a woman, predominantly for the purpose of bringing children into the world”. He then abstained from the same-sex marriage vote, perhaps because he realised how untenable and hypocritical his position was. Joyce is a leader, not just a regular MP, so his character is part of his political brand. Voters are now free to judge him on it.

Then there is the human factor of the story. Who can look at the photo of Vikki Campion, surprised by a photographer outside her Canberra home, heavily pregnant and wearing gym gear, and not feel a little icky about it? It is such a huge invasion of her privacy, not to mention the privacy of the unborn child, at a time when a woman is at her most vulnerable (and prone to emotional distress). The reporting of Mr Joyce's private life has raised questions about media ethics. Credit:Alex Ellinghausen It’s easy to imagine a circle of male editors sitting around in news conference crowing that, finally, their photographers had gotten the “money” shot of the pregnant woman, the scarlet woman - even though, if anyone has committed an act of betrayal, it is Joyce. Some readers will remember the huge scrutiny and nasty sexual innuendo Julia Gillard copped over her personal life and suspect a double standard is at play. The scandal is unlikely to be a career-ender for Joyce. But if a female politician fell pregnant to a staffer while married to someone else, you can bet it would be.