Dialogue: It's not much fun to be out on the street ...

Shortland Street had a lot of publicity lately when a large group of actors were given the push, providing the public with as much drama off screen as on.

The actors and crew, of course, have been forbidden from talking to the press. South Pacific Pictures runs a tight ship and ranks close firm and fast at the first whiff of trouble at mill.

The publicity machine prefers to keep a firm grip on information and the way it is spread and released, but in a town this size it couldn't keep news like that quiet for long.

One should remember, though, that while Shortland Street is a team effort, the show is the biggest star. The show is what rates, the show is where advertisers buy commercial time and the show is what the producers ultimately want to keep working.

Also, this is not the first time such a thing has happened - just never, until now, on such a grand scale. Actors, loyal long-termers, have been written out before their contracts have expired countless times, and only once to my knowledge has the company been successfully challenged for breaching its obligations.

As for that big happy family everyone who works there talks about, yes, it does exist but when push comes to shove, it's the producers who have the most muscle.

What do we expect? It's television, for goodness sake - hardly known for its tireless work in the fields of fair play and good manners.

I remember when I was released, before my contract was up. I was actually relieved and, while I missed the money and the work (which I loved), nothing could compensate for what was lost in the way of privacy.

Still, I stayed as long as they would have me, until my character outran her usefulness, the term they employ to soften the reality of having been fired.

As an actor, you have to accept that you're not going to be working all the time. In fact, you're lucky to be working some of the time.

You learn to squirrel your nuts away for the winter, for rainy days. And, while you're on the show, life is sweet. You are paid more than you've probably earned in your life, and you have to fork out for much less.

One of the great ironies about being a working, well-paid actor is that when you can finally afford tickets to shows, bottles of champagne and fancy accoutrements, many of life's little luxuries are laid on for free.

Nobody mentions the downsides, such as how your time on screen can detrimentally affect your ability to get work elsewhere. Or, if you find a real job, say in hospitality, the assumption is, "Ooh how the mighty have fallen. She used to be on TV, now she's working in a cafe."

But I give those people top marks who have the balls to roll up to a real job, after the red-carpet action is over, for knowing that all work is good and public scorn is just part and parcel of having lived in the public eye.

In my time on the show there were no lessons on preparing for fame and there was never any help with the transition on the way out. Maybe a couple of paying mall appearances as a golden handshake, but after a quick speech and a round of applause it was off the set and out on the street - moving right along because there are always more scenes to shoot.

Fast-turnaround television, by its very nature, waits for no man. There's no room for much more than a cursory mourn in the schedule.

As for people who said how cruel it is for the actors to have had such a traumatic experience made public, I'm sorry, but you have to take the rough with the smooth in showbiz.

If you're happy to accept the fortune of fame and all that goes with it, you have to take the bad. Accept money for an exclusive of your wedding and you can be sure that the vultures will descend on your divorce free, no payment necessary.

It might not be fair but that's life.

Who knows? Perhaps it is time for the once-loved show to hang up its stethoscope.

Does the patient really need resuscitating, if that's what this is all about, or should Shortland Street simply be allowed to pass peacefully away?