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Among the most idiotic of maxims is "all publicity is good publicity".
It's especially irritating when someone attributes every media storm to a "clever ploy". The subjects of such storms may be battered and bruised, praying for the nasty headlines to end. But some fool will scratch his chin and observe that "we're all talking about them now"; therefore, they must have masterminded – or at least be benefiting from – this intense scrutiny.
The curious belief is that monetary or reputational advantages invariably flow – through some unspecified process – from public attention.
Yes, sometimes bad press can be spun into a good story, especially if it can be shoehorned into a "redemption" narrative. But not always.
Just ask Channel Ten. Over the past few years, it has suffered a slew of critical reports about its ratings, share price and programming mis-steps. These were not welcomed inside the network, for obvious reasons. Such stories were harmful: to their reputation, their brand, the loyalty of their audience.
It's a different story, however, with The Bachelor. Ten has played this one beautifully. It has deftly sidestepped valid ethical questions to leverage the saga into ratings gold – so much so that appearances by former Bachelor contestants on The Project are drawing bigger audiences than the show itself ever did.
Blake Garvey's gormless mug is on the cover of every high-circulation gossip magazine in the country, including Woman's Day, New Idea, Who, NW and TV Week. High-rating FM radio shows are falling over themselves to interview him and his jilted fiance Sam Frost. Not to mention Louise Pillidge, who, in the space of a few weeks, has gone from being filmed weeping in the back of an SUV after Garvey dumped her to being photographed smiling by his side in a luxury Thai resort after he un-dumped her, leaving a bewildered Frost to wonder what the hell just happened. Naturally, each new twist prompts another flood of tweets and Facebook posts.
There seems to be a lot of anger out there, but here's the thing: not much of it is directed at Ten. Or at least, not from Ten's core audience. These viewers are (generally) too busy passing judgment on Garvey and Pillidge, or offering support to Frost.
And Ten couldn't be more thrilled. After all, passing judgment on this messy tangle of relationships was the whole point of The Bachelor. Every tweet or link to an article is "engagement with the brand", to use the corporate parlance.
It is building Ten's social media following. It is piquing interest in the next season of The Bachelor, and paving the way for a female-led The Bachelorette. And it's lifting the ratings of The Project, one of the network's most important shows.
Contrast this to the flurry of stories and social media comments around MasterChef a few years ago. The former ratings behemoth had lost its way, aping the personality clashes of My Kitchen Rules and introducing silly concepts such as "boys versus girls". This gained Ten a lot of attention, but no advantage.
Indeed, it tarnished both the show and the network. MasterChef's decline became emblematic of Ten's broader struggles, and viewers did not hesitate to express their disappointment. (Fortunately, the producers took a back-back-basics approach recently and were rewarded with a ratings jump.)
So what's the difference between MasterChef and The Bachelor?
In the first instance, Ten took an iconic, feel-good show downmarket – and was swiftly prodded into correcting its mistake. You don't meddle with MasterChef. It's family entertainment. Sacrosanct, almost.
Your average Bachelor viewer, however, is less inclined to be outraged by what's transpired since the finale.
Ten's decision's to air Garvey's marriage proposal to Frost – knowing full well she'd have to come out and reveal she'd already been dumped – is morally dubious, to put it mildly. But so was much of what happened in the show itself: the producer-enhanced catfights, the competitive group dates, the very idea of one bloke taking his pick of 30 women.
If you've been lapping up this orchestrated drama in twice-weekly instalments since the first episode (even ironically, as many viewers seem to), why would Ten's recent behind-the-scenes orchestrations shock you now?
Viewers punished Ten when they took MasterChef off-track; for tainting their beloved show with manipulation and conflict. Now, they're rewarding Ten for giving them an added dose of manipulation and conflict. Because that's what The Bachelor has always been about.
