“Have chest pains. If I die, these are the stats: I have worked 16 days in a row and worked every waking minute for 18 hours of every day. Sue the fuck out of the BBC.”

These are the words I text to my partner, whil taking yet another deep breath, trying not to panic, attempting to remain focused on the job in hand – leading a large cast and crew shooting a new BBC series for a leading independent production company. The irony that my role as a senior member of the production team includes a drummed-in responsibility for the duty of care of cast and crew is not lost on me.

We have to – quite rightly – work around strict working hours for minors among the cast. The crew manning heavy equipment – quite rightly – need regular breaks. The big-name presenter has – quite cleverly – had working hour conditions attached to their bumper contract.

But the rest of us: freelance producers, researchers, production managers, production coordinators, well the buck stops with us. If we don’t put the hours in, the show doesn’t get made. We can’t just clock off. We ignore all health and safety responsibilities when it comes to ourselves. And we don’t get paid overtime. It’s just the way it’s always been.

But against a backdrop of an advertising downturn, budget cuts, higher costs, fewer shows being commissioned, and greater competition from streamers and social media channels, the situation is getting worse.

Having worked in the TV industry for more than 20 years, I’m used to the brutal hours of work. You tell yourself you’re lucky. The work can be fun. We’re hardly junior doctors, we’re not in a war zone. But working through breakfast, lunch and dinner. Rewriting scripts until the early hours, back on set at 8am. Having zero down time. Well, it’s not right, is it?

The industry relies on the work ethic and passion of freelancers – it would not exist without us – and we’re bullied into fearing for future employment opportunities if we complain.

Our show has been massively underbudgeted. We don’t have enough staff. We don’t have anywhere near enough time to do anything properly. But as seems to be the case with every broadcaster these days, expectations aren’t budging, and our commissioner is dogged.

I get emails at all hours of the day and night. On weekends. Constantly told how disappointed our commissioner is that the show we have made for 50p doesn’t look like a Hollywood blockbuster. Refusing to sign off on creative decisions until the very last minute, despite knowing the repercussions on working hours for the team. But it’s not like I wasn’t expecting it – they are well known as a tyrant, and I’ve had the pleasure of working with others like them for other channels over the years. At least my bosses at the production company appreciate we’re working miracles – although they clearly don’t appreciate it enough to take the financial hit of extending our schedule.

Postproduction (the edit) is even worse than the shoot. OK, I get the occasional day off; but I’m working 14– to 16-hour days for months on end (still no overtime!). I don’t have a big enough team. We aren’t being given enough time. I’m doing the job of three people. And we’re still facing the full force of the commissioner when things aren’t perfect – and of course they’re not perfect, given the circumstances. I’m good at my job. I’ve been nominated for and won major industry awards. I know how to make a good show. I also know when the odds are not in our favour.

If there’s one thing you really need when you’re abandoning your family, risking physical and mental health for the job, it’s a bit of appreciation. To instead get a kick in the teeth, is well, a kick in the teeth.

The occasional story that hits the press (the recent Strictly dancers’ scandal, or claims of “inhumane” working conditions by Gogglebox staff in 2021) are met with an eyeroll by those of us who know this is normal, widespread, and accepted by everyone in the industry. It’s laughable that channels pretend they aren’t entirely complicit – it starts with them.

And yet, those of us still facing these pressures are actually the “lucky” ones. The industry is in crisis. It’s estimated that 70-85% of freelancers are unemployed. People are openly talking about considering suicide on social media, as the industry they’ve given everything to has completely abandoned them.

Traditional broadcasting is dying, so maybe it’s time for those of us who have put up with too much for too long to start making a noise. Who knows, we could revolutionise the industry.