From the memoir: When Oscar Wilde’s daughter-in-law did ‘Oriental’ makeup for Qurratulain Hyder

Sir Harry Turner was president of the British Union of Journalists. He turned out to be an elderly gentleman of the same ilk as Mr Owen Jones. He spoke most compassionately. “The problem in London is that journalists have laid down a set of very stringent rules: people from the British Commonwealth cannot get employment here, because in the blink of an eye Fleet Street will be inundated with them. I hope you will appreciate my helplessness due to this constraint and agree to work for a provincial newspaper.”

“No, only Fleet Street!”

“Okay, so will you work for a women’s magazine?”

“No. I will report only for a national daily.”

Sir Harry was silent for two minutes, lost in thought. Then stretched his hand out for the telephone. Dialled the managing editor of The Daily Telegraph and engaged in a serious conversation with him for some time. Then turned to me and said, “I have just discussed your case. Owing to union rules you will not be paid a salary. You will work as a trainee reporter and as a token, you will get five pounds a week and taxi fare for the commute which your reporting will necessitate. Is that all right? Go there right now.”

I thanked this kind...

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