The moment the mask slipped, and I finally felt sorry for Constance Hall… I’ve known countless women like you and trust me, you don’t want to end up like them: AMANDA GOFF

My readers know me well. They know I have a hit list – and I’m working through it, slowly and gleefully. Some of my columns make it past the lawyers; others end up in the ‘no one wants a lawsuit’ tray.

Usually, my attention is on nauseating celebrities and infuriating ‘influencers’ whose behaviour is simply too egregious to ignore.

Which brings me – for the third time in as many months – to Constance Hall: self-proclaimed ‘queen’ of God knows what. Her marriage to Denim Cooke is so turbulent, it makes a QF433 Sydney-Melbourne landing look smooth. 

Now, I’m going to admit something here: I’m warming up to Connie… despite her 12-minute Facebook rant against me when I called Denz ‘feral’.

I don’t bear grudges. I like a woman who is authentic and real, and in a world of Instagram ‘moms’ who dress their kids in beige to match their sofas, Range Rovers and husbands, Constance has always been oddly refreshing. 

She has amassed 1.2million followers on Facebook for a reason, and for 11 years has been the original ‘mummy blogger’. Whether you like her or loathe her, you can’t deny she has staying power.

The mother of six (yes, six) is messy, loud and seemingly incapable of keeping her private life private. And I rather like that about her. In fact, I suspect we’d get on quite well – if she’s ever able to forgive my slurs against her useless excuse for a husband. 

And it’s her marriage to Denim that I have always struggled to understand. After two columns dissecting their toxic relationship, I genuinely thought I’d said everything I needed to say. Denim killing a rescue Lorikeet that Constance was trying to love back to health was the last straw for me. 

I’d made my point – twice – upset a few of her followers and made a mental note not to go there again. After all, there are plenty of other irritating celebs to write about.

But she’s done it again, hasn’t she? On Tuesday, she posted yet another 11-minute video I nearly scrolled straight past. What could possibly be left to say? Quite a lot, apparently. Because this time – rather than just rolling my eyes and sharpening my pencil – I found myself feeling something unexpected: sympathy.

Don’t worry, I’m not going soft. But for the first time, I saw the mask slip. I wasn’t watching a foul-mouthed, defiant Queen. I was watching a woman look absolutely defeated. For a mere moment, the bravado disappeared and what was left was a woman who looked desperately lonely and sad.

Constance began by taking aim at her followers this time – always a bold choice when they made you the powerhouse brand you are. 

She took issue with their constant calls to leave Denim after ‘Birdgate’. After 11 years of sharing every corner of her life online, she announced she’d had enough of women – her own followers – whom she described as ‘misogynists disguised as feminists’ simply because they want her to leave Denim.

And what were the comments she didn’t like? ‘Bird killer still around then?’ ‘But didn’t your husband kill a bird for no reason?’ ‘Leave him.’

I could go on, but you see where this is going. Her followers have had enough.

But the really interesting – and honestly bloody sad – part of the video comes when Constance starts to cry. And through her tears, she says: ‘I have this one person who helps me deal with my six kids and two dogs.’

And that person is Denim, the bird killer.

Honestly? That’s where she got me.

For the first time, I wasn’t watching a loud, gobby blogger defiantly standing up for herself; I was watching a defeated woman who sounded frightened of being on her own.

She said she has one person, just one person, to help her deal with her family.

And that was the saddest part of the video: the fact she thinks the feral Denim, who killed a rescue bird with his own hands despite Constance pleading with him not to, is truly her only option.

Now, I’ve known enough women in unhappy marriages who are too scared to leave: for financial reasons, fear of starting again, the kids. Women who convince themselves they can’t possibly manage without their partners. One friend stays with her cheating husband because she ‘has anxiety’ and he is her ‘safety person’.

Hm, so safe he can’t keep it in his pants. She has decided staying is easier than leaving, even when staying comes at the cost of her mental health. Now she’s an anorexic, pill-popping alcoholic mess – all because she thinks staying in a toxic marriage is better than being alone.

I just don’t get it. The loneliest I’ve ever felt was lying back-to-back with a man I no longer loved, who no longer loved me. I left. Hard yes, but not as hard as staying.

Here’s what I can’t get past: Constance built her career on female empowerment – championing strength, independence and rejecting judgement.

Yet when her own loyal followers question her choices, refuse to be gaslit about her marriage, she doesn’t hear their genuine concern – only sees betrayal.

That’s the crux of it: Constance urges women to speak up, but only so long as they don’t question her.

Connie, you can’t spend more than a decade profiting from sharing your life, then turn around and call the very women who made you successful ‘misogynists’ simply because they urge you to leave your husband.

You told them to be outspoken and fearless. Don’t try to silence them just because you don’t like what they’re saying now.

You built an empire telling women they deserve better. It’s time to believe that yourself.