Today is Oscar’s Day. Personally, I couldn’t give a hoot as I don’t go for the red carpet and glamour nonsense mixed in with bitchiness, back biting and worst of all, hypocrisy.

Oh the stars and the directors get their moments of glory, get to waffle – only 45 seconds this year I hear – about love, peace, free Tibet, homosexual panda bears, the nasty habit of the Japanese peeling whales, thank Mom, Dad and God or Allah and generally get to do for real, what they rehearsed yesterday.

But spare a thought for all those people behind the scenes that nail it all together. The camera guys, electricians, carpenters, computer operators, editors, juniors-hoping-for-a-break that make the coffee – often for free - and the rest of the crews you see in credits that can be as long as the movie – especially a James Cameron or Kevin Costner.

(I once took out Dancing with Wolves, took it straight back when it had finished and still got a late fee from VideoEzy).

Sure they get paid for their hard work and dedication. Well mostly. But only a fraction of the percentage of what the red carpet brigade and their minders earn. And they are the ones that have to clean everything up, lie in the mud and the rain or the heat and dust for hours on end and deal with tantrums and childish prima donna behaviour along with snakes, cold, bad food, rotten hygienic conditions and actors.

It’s a thankless task.

So why do we do it?

Simply because we want everything we do, whether it is granny’s 80th or an Avatar or Hurt Locker, the very best we can make it be. It’s called professional pride.

If you are going to have your name self tapped to the end of the credits, may as well make it worth it.