What do Kyle Sandilands, The Chaser, Matty Johns, Bill Henson and Gordon Ramsay have in common?

Just ask Kyle Sandilands. And Gordan Ramsay. And The Chaser. And Matty Johns. And Bill Henson. You’d struggle to think of a more disparate group but they’ve all been knocked on their bums recently after inadvertently poking a sharp stick in the eye of public opinion.

In each case, the backlash has been overwhelming and merry media hell has rained down on their heads. In each case, their shock has appeared genuine. And why wouldn’t it be?

“I don’t understand,” said Gordan Ramsay. “I’ve always been an abusive, sexist loud-mouth.” “I don’t understand,” said Bill Henson. “I’ve always photographed naked children.” “I don’t understand,” said Matty Johns, “Footy players have always had group sex”. “We don’t’ understand” said The Chaser guys, “We’ve always made provocative satire.” “I don’t understand,” said Kyle Sandilands. “I’ve always channelled Jerry Springer and Howard Stern”.
“It’s what we DO”, they cried. “And until now, people clapped and cheered and never told us to stop.”

In the face of such extreme public anger and media castigation, some boundary pushers have understood faster than others that they’ve gone too far. Some remorse has been heartfelt and sincere like The Chaser. Other apologies have been cynical and made at gunpoint, motivated by spin-doctors and a mercenary desire to secure future earnings. Hello Gordan Ramsay.

Behind the scenes, I’d guess many remain quietly defiant, seething that they’re suddenly being held accountable for things they’ve done freely for years.

Success is a potent filter. Even if you don’t ask it to, it can quarantine you from criticism and perspective. You become insulated in your world. Money comes easily. So do opportunities. People say yes to you a lot.

This doesn’t make you a bad person, just one who can become dangerously out of touch with what the majority of society finds acceptable. So when your insulated world collides with the world most other people live in, things can become really ugly really quickly.

I know this because I’ve been there – on a vastly smaller scale, thankfully. Several times during my years as a magazine editor, I was sent reeling from a public backlash I’d inadvertently triggered, usually by doing something I’d done many times before.

Two of the biggest pushbacks I experienced were for things I’d considered so humdrum as to not even raise an eyebrow in my mind let alone a red flag.
 
The first time was when I used Photoshop to change the colour of a cover model’s dress. I’d done things far worse without consequence. But on this occasion, a rival magazine released the original image to draw attention to the change and when it ignited a story on a slow news day, I was inundated with furious feedback from readers. This baffled me. It was just a dress, wasn’t it? I hadn’t changed her skin colour or body shape. Why the fuss?

Eventually I got the message. It turns out readers don’t like being deceived, not even in little, seemingly innocuous ways. It makes them wonder how else you’re deceiving them (and that’s a whole other column I promise to write some time). Having inhabited The Land Of The Altered Image for so long, my view on such things had been radically recalibrated without me even realising it.

The second big boundary pushback was oral sex’s fault. If you’re even vaguely familiar with Cosmo or Cleo, you’ll be aware that sex in all its flavours is as ubiquitous in those mags as beauty tips and relationship advice. It’s been that way for decades.
And editing such a magazine, when your job requires you to conduct regular sealed-section meetings with your staff…well, your views on how acceptable it is to discuss sex can become a little warped.

That’s how I came to be the public face of smut after customer complaints about an overly raunchy coverline prompted several supermarkets to yank Cosmo from sale. I then had to front the media to defend my magazine while pretending to be sorry. Privately, I was once again baffled. One part of me (the mother part who stood in supermarket queues with a small child) understood the outrage but I was still confused.

I’d worked on magazines that had run more explicit stories. Hey, I’d run far worse myself dozens of times. This one was standard stuff and it was sealed so what was the problem? Once again it took me a while to realise I’d been caught napping. While I was sequestered in mag land where life is a rainbow of weird, public standards of decency had shifted underneath me. To the right. What was fine a decade ago, suddenly wasn’t. I’d pushed a boundary to sell magazines and the boundary had replied in no uncertain terms, “Oi! Back off bitch!” And so I did. And that’s the point. If you want to be paid to push boundaries, you’d better listen when they push you back.