Someone compared promoted writers to pigs who made their way to the trough. There is not enough space at the feeder. The pigs eat, slurping and choking, pushing, grunting contentedly, looking contemptuously with their little pig eyes at their skinny, unlucky fellow writers. They didn’t get a place at the feeding trough... This is about writers. Journalists are divided into those who clean the Augean stables - and those who ride out of these stables, prancing on a glamorous horse. It’s not a fact that it’s on white.