IN the basement of a community hall, somewhere in Walworth, London, the CEO of RenewBlades is fixing me with a cold, hard stare.“On your head be it,” he says, dismissively.“On my head be it.”The negotiations are over. I’ve just declared strike action. I stand up and leave without a handshake. If there were a door to his office, I’d have slammed it. Instead, I leave the table, the two chairs, and a jesting Pilate, pretending to busy himself with papers on his desk.