An ‘ordure’ is my collective noun for a group of oestrogen-driven, ageing neurotics, who ‘taught’ screenwriting at RMIT many years ago.

They were older women who couldn’t teach. Students spent two hours of a three hour teaching period watching movies. Fuck me dead.

They got the job because they helped my predecessor write the course. They passed no selection criteria. They sat no job interview.

My predecessor was so keen to launch the program, she didn’t do any market research. If she had, she would have found that there were fuck-all jobs for screenwriters.

We were consuming $700,000 of student contact hours (tax payers money) per year to produce graduates who couldn’t find work.

These oxygen thieves bitched about each other and the students. They bought problems from home into the workplace and sowed toxicity and enmity.

I had about 60 staff to look after but this pack of fuckwits took up 70 per cent of my time.

In a career which has spanned more than 40 years, working with hundreds of professionals and trades, I have never seen a more emotionally crippled pack of arseholes.