If you want to be valued by the BBC, be a man with a big ego...

Woman’s Hour celebrated its 70th birthday with a relatively rare party at Broadcasting House in October. Nibbles, not-quite-champagne, and a host of luminaries. The DG made a speech. So did I. Only mine didn’t make much sense. (Whatever that stuff was, it was quite nice.) We marked 70 years of an eclectic, challenging, taboo-busting programme that’s now part of the fabric of British life. It’s a BBC brand. You may be a faithful listener, you may never have heard it; chances are you know it exists. We’re much-loved and muchmocked. That’s the word “woman” you see: it’s quite loaded.

It all felt a very long way from my early life in radio... 23, a self-confessed radio nerd with an average degree in English and a willingness to learn. And the ability to carry off a T-shirt a few sizes too small emblazoned with the radio station motif. This was commercial radio, I should point out... as if the BBC would countenance such a thing!

Thirty years later and I’ve become the media’s go-to moaning harpie on the subject of the gender pay gap. And that’s fine. If I can’t belly-ache, who can? For the last decade, I’ve worked in what might you might imagine to be the epicentre of political correctness. Not just the BBC; not just Radio 4; but Woman’s Hour, home of the dungaree and the wraparound cardigan. And yes, since you ask, we do like the occasional flapjack.

I’ve said the word “uterus” out loud any number of times and lived to tell the tale. I’ve talked to Mary J Blige and Mary Berry. I’ve interviewed women in prison and female home secretaries.

And we have discussed the gender pay gap. You bet we have. Why it exists; how to solve it; what women can do to help themselves; how to ask for a pay rise; what to do when you don’t get a pay rise. And on and on and on. So yes, it is a bit odd to become a part of the story. I nearly said “struggle”... but how absurd that would be.

I earn a six-figure salary and I’ve never struggled. But now I know for certain what I’ve always suspected: I don’t get paid as much as many many other radio presenters, most of them male. Of course I don’t deserve to earn as much as a front line war reporter, political editor or host of a three-hour news breakfast show. Although actually I did co-present Five Live’s Breakfast show for four years in the Nineties.

Megabucks were not forthcoming. In fact, I earn more now than at any time in my career. And like most women, I’m usually a little too eager to be grateful. Even now, I’m playing by the lady-rules: Smile reasonably sweetly. Try not to sound too angry.

Throw in a selfdeprecating remark or two. It never does any harm, does it? Actually, it probably does. Take yourself seriously and so, it turns out, do a lot of other people.

I’ve read with interest the contributions from those who don’t want others to fall into a “trap” and start merrily Bbc-bashing. Of

‘I’ve become the media’s go-to moaning harpie on the gender pay gap’

course I know this saga suits lot of people, all of them disinclined to think fondly of the BBC. I also know the figures don’t tell the whole story. Some stars are conveniently missing altogether; some people work 300 days a year; some are genuine audience grabbers in a way I could never be. Still, if you want to be valued by the BBC, go with the evidence and try this: be a man with a very big ego; be a man with a very big brain; be a retired sportsman or, Sod it, just be a man. Ladies, you could try dusting down a ball gown.

It’s not very edifying, any of this bleating from a world of quinoa-scoffers. Please, though, think about this: I am white, able-bodied, privately educated; I work for what is officially a thoroughly modern employer, on its flagship, long-established successful women’s programme... and this happened to me. I am underpaid by the BBC to talk about the gender pay gap on the BBC. It’s almost comic.

You could soon find out it’s been happening to you, too. We have a duty to make certain it can’t happen to our daughters.