And for some inexplicable reason, she never, ever leaves him. No matter how hideous he is, she's always loyal. She stands by her man.

And it's difficult for us, the bystanders. She's all class and he's an ass, but there's nothing we can do about it. No matter how gormless he is, she smooths it over. When we go home, we ask each other how she can possibly put up with it.

It's been a few days since we spent any serious time with Barnaby and Vikki but, since then, we've done nothing but talk about why she should dump him and ask ourselves why she hasn't.

Campion, a 33-year-old journalist-turned-media-adviser, has been roundly pilloried for her role in the breakdown of the marriage of the former deputy prime minister to his wife of more than 20 years, Natalie Joyce.

While I love to judge, I'll just hold back here. Because what happened to all these relationships is not the fault of either of the very fine women concerned. They both took a very contemporary stance: they partnered down.

Barnaby is not good enough for either of them.

Campion was a successful journalist more or less from the get-go. She was just 16, when she knocked on the door of the local Atherton paper, the Tablelander, and got herself a job straight out of school. It's not like her parents had the kinds of connections that could get her a gig. She transferred to the Townsville Bulletin, where she won a highly commended award for her coverage of the devastation in Innisfail after Cyclone Larry in 2006. Covering those events is really tough. She spent two months in London as part of her prize. She was runner up to Sharri Markson (who, years later, broke the "Bundle of Joyce" story for the Daily Telegraph).

Campion herself became a reporter for the Daily Telegraph and then moved on to its news desk when, always a country woman at heart, she left journalism in 2014 to become an adviser to various NSW state Nationals MPs, including Police Minister Troy Grant when he was deputy premier and Lands and Racing Minister Paul Toole when the Bathurst MP had the local government portfolio.

She must have been a powerhouse because she was seconded to work for the Nats in Canberra in the lead-up to the last federal election, and found herself in Barnaby's office in May 2016. By August, she had called off her engagement to digital consultant John Bergin. That's a hard thing to do when a wedding is scheduled for November.

Courageous, talented, single-minded and according to those who know her, a barrel of laughs, Campion was a good catch for anyone really. And then along comes Barnaby.

This is where you have to really admire Campion. Joyce is the worst. In public, he's thrown her under a bus on a number of occasions.

First, he tells the world he's not sure that he is the father of her baby. Apparently the paternity of Sebastian Joyce is a "grey area". Then he tells the world that selling their story to Channel Seven was her idea.

Both of those Joycean moves made me feel ill. But the worst (until the next worst emerges) was during the godforsaken interview with Alex Cullen on Sunday Night when Barnaby tried to explain that he was responsible for the relationship and all the attention that came with it.

"I'm the adult and the fault is mine."

Dear god. Did he position Vikki as a child? And is that how he's constructed the entire relationship? The utterly awkward moment was only rescued when Vikki interjected: "I'm an adult, too."

Which she is. An adult with agency and with autonomy who has not dumped her buffoon. She's the archetype. In the face of public humiliation, she stands by her man. He's gormless at a barbie, she indulges him. He insults her family, she smooths it over.

Meanwhile, at home, I hope the other women who are too good for Barnaby are doing okay. I'm sending love to Natalie, and to her four daughters.

I have this fantasy that the six of them – the Joyces and Vikki – send Barnaby packing.

And Vikki brings up Sebastian to be the decent man his father never was.

Jenna Price is a Fairfax columnist and an academic at the University of Technology Sydney.