What a palaver at Astronomer – I would think that the handsy bossman is already seeing stars, courtesy of his chip-spitting missus. Mind you, I toiled in outsourced contact centres for 20 years or so, and I can’t remember a time when the CEO wasn’t banging the HR Director.

Let’s face it, soaking up psycho spooge was always the most productive act going down in HR, with going down being the operative phrase. It’s typically a department rammed with cosplaying, sociopathic, egotistical no-marks, specialising in the delivery of fuck-all.

If these two hapless turds had been bombed for stanning Coldplay, we’d have probably effortlessly got on board and merrily dumped on the burning embers of their unsound judgement. As it is, the whole episode feels like shitehawk bandwagon fodder, but you can bet your bottom dollar that this very same fingerblasted HR cum dumpster would have pulled the lever on any rumpy-pumping subordinates who had stumbled into her crosshairs, presumably while stroking her russet gusset under the fluffy thought-bubble of a formal disciplinary.

We can prick that without compunction, though. Don’t waste your sympathy on her or the prestidigitating captain of industry: Live by the pork sword and die by the pork sword.

Mental publicity for übercock Chris Martin, though – the band had not done an album in ages, and now they’ve created two singles off the back of one crappy gig.

Most precious of all, we’ve now seen a tech company dealing in AI pontificating about ethics.

Holy shyster, Batman! Talk about cold playing the public.

The greatest gift of this perfect storm is, however, the crystallisation of every single social element of legitimised hatred into one neatly formed ball of bottom-feeding scum: HR, Coldplay, cheaters, CEOs, and millionaires.

And for that, we can be grateful.