I have a confession. One that could see me stripped of my passport or roasted alive by the Facebook mums.
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Here goes: I don't find comedian Celeste Barber remotely funny anymore.
Gasp. There, I've said it.
And what a time to admit it too, with news breaking that her 20‑year marriage to Api Robin - the man she so relentlessly branded 'the hot husband' - is over.
I can already hear the outraged wails.
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'Amanda, how could you? Celeste is an icon! She's relatable. She skewers unrealistic beauty standards. She exposes the fakeness of social media.' She's one of us.
As Celeste Barber and her 'hot husband' Api Robin call it quits, Amanda Goff says what many have been quietly thinking about Facebook's favourite comedian
I know, I know. I understand how parody works. Celeste built a brand - and made a fortune - by tearing shreds off airbrushed influencers, smug supermodels and tone‑deaf celebs. Her modus operandi? Recreate their outrageous Instagram posts and photo shoots in her living room, minus the gloss and with added daggy undies.
She put herself on the map in 2015 when she mocked Kim Kardashian, who was lying half‑naked in a pile of dirt with a photographer conveniently positioned nearby.
Arriving at the apex of Instagram's 'celebrity era', it was smart, timely and exactly what the culture was craving.
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With Facetune booming and filters warping reality, this down‑to‑earth Central Coast mum cut through the veneer, driving a satirical switchblade through the Hollywood veil. Overnight, her G‑string and unkempt hair became iconic.
I laughed. We all did. And in the process, we collectively felt a little better about our tummy rolls and saggy bits.
In 2017? Still funny.
And in 2018? I was still chuckling.
But now, ten years on? Am I the only one who thinks it's the same tired punchline dressed up in a different bikini?
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It's also started to feel a little mean - and I'm not the only one who thinks so.
'We've reached a point where the line has blurred between the comedian and the stars she once so gleefully mocked,' writes Amanda. (Celeste is seen at the AACTAs earlier this month)
Model Emily Ratajkowski famously blocked Celeste after asking her to stop using her images, calling her humour 'fundamentally sexist'.
She added pointedly: 'We really love to pick on female influencers, like they are considered the trash, lamest, most cringe, most embarrassing people on the planet.'
Celeste's clapback? Well, it was pretty mean too, actually.
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In a podcast interview discussing Ratajkowski's reaction, she said: 'So I was posting and then I found out that she had blocked me and she didn't like it.
'So I was like, "Oh, that's boring. Oh, now I can't do it. Oh, come on, please have a sense of humour. Please have a sense of humour. Oh, you don't? Okay, I'll stop."'
It could have been a moment of introspection - a chance to reassess her comedic style and whether it had strayed into 'pick‑me' territory. But instead, Celeste dug her heels in. 'Have a sense of humour!' she crowed. Business as usual.
By this point, I was over it. I'd written off Celeste as a comedic one‑trick pony.
But the merits of her act aren't the issue here.
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The issue is that, over the years, our unfiltered larrikin in trackie dacks has slowly morphed into the very thing she once ridiculed: a polished celebrity.
Her once‑wobbly thighs are now honed and toned. Her haircut is sleek. She's got a Netflix show (or at least had one until it was cancelled). She launched a beauty line. She's graced the covers of magazines looking like an entirely different person.
The glow‑up is undeniable. We've now reached a point where the line has blurred between the comedian and the stars she once so gleefully mocked.
To quote pop misery‑guts Morrissey, 'That joke isn't funny anymore / It's too close to home / And it's too near to the bone.'
And now her marriage is kaput - the very relatable union that made her so beloved among the Mamamia mums who lined her pockets for years.
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After ten years, am I the only person who thinks it's the same tired punchline dressed up in a different bikini?
From roasting A‑listers to rubbing shoulders with the original 'momager', Celeste has travelled far since sending up Kim Kardashian's dusty glamour shot
Celeste preens for a selfie next to a freshly injected influencer at the AACTAs. Says it all, really
That's right: after 20 years together, Celeste and Api - parents to Lou, 14, and Buddy, 11 - have called it quits.
Curiously, it wasn't Celeste who made the announcement - it was Api. He posted to his 288,000 Instagram followers:
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'There is still love and respect between us, but sadly we are at capacity and have come to recognise we may want different things.'
Let's be clear: female celebrities don't owe us a tell‑all when their marriages end. They aren't obligated to post a teary video or a heart‑wrenching statement.
But Celeste is different: she built her brand on being 'just like us'. She invited the world into her authentically chaotic life - messy bun and under-eye bags included - and made her 'hot husband' central to her image.
So yes, her silence is impossible to ignore. Deafening, in fact.
Given how much her life has changed in the last decade, I wouldn't be surprised if she popped up in Marie Claire or The Cut in a few months' time, offering a hazy nod to her split that makes Gwyneth Paltrow's 'conscious uncoupling' seem refreshingly direct by comparison.
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Isn't it all a little… ironic?
'I remember being in the Qantas Lounge as Celeste strode confidently towards the buffet, while Api trailed behind, lugging the bags and looking very much like a dutiful sidekick,' writes Amanda
I won't speculate on why they split - none of us is entitled to the details. Marriages end, and 20 years is an achievement in itself.
But I will say this: a few years ago, I spotted Celeste and Api in the Qantas lounge - a rare moment where I genuinely forgot I was a journalist and found myself a little starstruck.
Celeste strode confidently towards the buffet, while Api trailed behind, lugging the bags and looking very much like a dutiful sidekick.
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And I remember thinking: I'd just seen the dynamic right there. She was running the show.
There's also a photo of the couple I'll never forget - taken at the Babylon premiere in 2023. Celeste is radiant in red, her A-list transformation in full swing; Api, as ever, is handsome by her side.
But there's something about their stance I can't unsee: she's angled forward, a step ahead, while he lingers just behind. They're not leaning into each other, not a couple entwined. Instead, it's two people posing for the cameras, together but separate.
Even the way they were holding hands looked ever so slightly… staged.
I'm no body‑language expert - it was just an impression that lingered.
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All weekend, I couldn't stop thinking about Api's odd wording: 'We are at capacity.'
What did he mean? They were loved‑up in the States in late October - they certainly didn't look 'at capacity' then.
Was he tired of lagging a few paces behind in the Qantas Lounge as his wife basked in the spotlight? Having met many men married to successful women, it's possible - though I don't claim to have insider knowledge of this particular split, and I do note that Api often spoke of how proud he was of his wife.
What I can say for certain is this: for more than a decade, Celeste was Instagram's 'queen of real' - yet as her marriage faltered, her devoted fans were none the wiser.
As recently as November, they seemed blissfully happy - only to split by Valentine's Day. The only conclusion I can make is that her loved‑up posts papered over the cracks.
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And really, is there anything more artificial than that?
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