Fighting for writers. A Guilded Age

Look, if I passed you in the street this week, if I met you in a shop or if you were even one of the staggering number of spam callers I get these days, I will have told you at length about my stepping down as a deputy chair of the Writers’ Guild. If you managed to block your ears before, you’d best do that again because this is so on my mind and I think for a particular reason. It’s that there’s a strong chance this was my last time working for the Guild. I’ll always be a member, I’m never leaving, but if you are ever an officer of the Writers’ Guild, you get a maximum four-year term and that’s it. Except the last time I did four years, I was back after about 12 months when I was again eligible for the role. So there you go, right there, I’ve stepped down from this very same role before, it’s inconceivable that I should be so bothered this time. I mean, I could stand yet again after 12 months. No guarantee I’d get it, of course, but I could stand. I won an election to continue in the…