Coldplay’s Kiss Cam couple made us chuckle, but they triggered my bonk ban fixation

Kiss Cam, the harbinger of doom that picks out smooching couples in a crowd and projects them for everyone to see, brought out the ugly truth for us all. Every workplace hosts a dodgy relationship, and that hurts the rest of us. I can tell you from personal experience in both newspapers and universities. The relationship, even when consensual, damages how work works.

I have zero idea why workplaces can’t institute a bonk ban. Sure, at the same level and with no chain of command issues, there’s barely a risk – except for the one where you can say to a trusted colleague: Geez, that bloke [you’re rooting] is utterly useless.

When advocating for workplace bonk bans, I’ve been reprimanded by former students who tell me that work is the only place they meet people. My advice? Get out more.

We could and should emulate prime ministers Malcolm Turnbull and Anthony Albanese. Turnbull imposed the bonk ban after the chaos of Barnaby Joyce’s love life. Albanese continued the policy because it was the sensible thing to do. My god, I loved watching the musical chairs among staffers in the wake of the first round of BB.

Why does workplace bonking hurt the rest of us? Here are my own personal experiences.

Exhibit A. Let’s call him Leaden Fool. He had come along to an event I’d organised. He’d spotted a gorgeous young talent and asked for contact details. A few months later, the young thing got a job with us. They then embarked on a relationship that both denied ever existed. Exhausting. They backed each other up in every single crucial decision made. There was never any room for discussion. If they weren’t bonking, they were certainly barracking for each other in every way possible. One has gone on to bigger things, the other consigned to the dustbin of history. But it took a long time and damaged people and processes along the way.

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But probably my least favourite experience of working with a couple was working with a throuple (strictly speaking, throuples are consensual all ways). Anyhow, this drunken sleaze was bonking two junior reporters in the same period of time. The sweeties apparently had no idea, although all the other junior reporters knew because, well, journalists are trained observers unless they are in a sex haze. That didn’t end well either. And there were civilians hurt in the process who should have had the chance to grieve in private.

Megan Kerrigan didn’t get a chance to grieve in private. She discovered the bad news when everyone else did, when millions of others did. Her husband, Andy Byron, and his, ahem, date, Kristin Cabot, were caught on Kiss Cam at a Coldplay concert. Sure, it’s easy to get swept up in what the Conservatorium’s Dr Brad Fuller describes to me as looping chords, shimmering guitars and falsetto vocals, both intimate and epic. But you could tell, even under the veil of shame, these two knew each other. In a biblical sense.