The Complete Yes Minister

‘At least it wasn’t labelled “Restricted”,’ he said. [RESTRICTED means it was in the papers yesterday. CONFIDENTIAL means it won’t be in the papers till today – Ed.]

I decided to put Bernard on the spot. ‘Who leaked this? Humphrey?’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I’m sure he didn’t.’

‘Are you?’ I asked penetratingly.

‘Well . . . he probably didn’t.’

‘No?’ I was at my most penetrating.

‘Well,’ said Bernard with a sheepish smile, ‘it might have been someone else.’

‘These leaks are a disgrace,’ I told him. ‘And people think that it’s politicians that leak.’

‘It has been known, though, hasn’t it?’ said Bernard carefully.

‘In my opinion,’ I said reproachfully, ‘we are much more leaked against than leaking.’

I then read The Times story carefully through. It contained a number of phrases that I could almost hear Humphrey dictating: ‘Political cowardice to reject the BCC proposal’ . . . ‘Hacker has no choice’, etc.

It was clear that, by means of this leak, Humphrey thinks that he has now committed me to this scheme.

Well, we shall see!

June 14th

I got my copy of the Henderson Report on Saturday, only a day after The Times got theirs. Not bad.

The Report gives me no way out of the Propanol scheme. At least, none that I can see at the moment. It says it’s a completely safe chemical.

On the other hand, The Times commits me to nothing. It is, after all, merely an unofficial leak of a draft report.

Sir Wally McFarlane was my first appointment of the day. Humphrey came too – surprise, surprise!

And they were both looking excessively cheerful.

I asked them to sit down. Then Sir Wally opened the batting.

‘I see from the press,’ he said, ‘that the Henderson Report comes down clearly on our side.’

I think perhaps he still thinks that I’m on his side. No, surely Humphrey must have briefed him. So he’s pretending that he thinks that I’m still on his side.

I was non-committal. ‘Yes, I saw that too.’

And I stared penetratingly at Humphrey.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Yes, that committee is leaking like a sieve,’ he said. I continued staring at him, but made no reply. There’s no doubt that he’s the guilty man. He continued, brazenly: ‘So Minister, there’s no real case for refusing permission for the new Plant now, is there?’

I remained non-committal. ‘I don’t know.’

Sir Wally spoke up. ‘Look, Jim. We’ve been working away at this contract for two years. It’s very important to us. I’m chairman and I’m responsible – and I tell you, as a chemist myself, that metadioxin is utterly safe.’

‘Why do you experts always think you are right?’ I enquired coldly.

‘Why do you think,’ countered Sir Wally emotionally, ‘that the more inexpert you are, the more likely you are to be right?’

I’m not an expert. I’ve never claimed to be an expert. I said so. ‘Ministers are not experts. Ministers are put in charge precisely because they know nothing . . .’

‘You admit that?’ interrupted Sir Wally with glee. I suppose I walked right into that.

I persevered. ‘Ministers know nothing about technical problems. A Minister’s job is to consider the wider interests of the nation and, for that reason, I cannot commit myself yet.’

Sir Wally stood up, and lost his temper. (In the reverse order, I think.) ‘Come off it, Hacker,’ he exploded, ‘this is the wrong decision and you know it. It is weak, craven and cowardly.’

Then I got angry. I stood up too. ‘I am not a coward.’

‘Sit down!’ he whispered murderously. His eyes were flashing, and he looked quite ready for a physical punch-up. I decided that discretion was the better part of valour and sat down.

He was beside himself with rage. He was spitting all over my desk as he spoke. ‘You think you’ll lose a miserable few hundred votes from a few foolish ill-informed people in those constituencies? It’s pathetic!’

‘It’s politics,’ I explained.

‘Exactly,’ he agreed contemptuously, and walked to the door.

Then he turned. ‘I shall be telephoning the Secretary of State for Industry. I’m prepared to resign if you block this one.’

He stalked out.

We gazed at each other.

After a few moments Sir Humphrey spoke. ‘How did you feel that went, Minister?’ he enquired politely.

I refused to show my concern. As breezily as I could, I replied, ‘We’ll just have to get another chairman, that’s all.’

Humphrey was incredulous. ‘Get another? Get another? No one else on earth would take that job. Nobody wants to be chairman of a nationalised industry. It’s instant ruin. They might as well accept the golden handshake on the day they start. It’s only a matter of time.’

I still refused to show any concern. ‘We’ll find someone,’ I said, with a confidence that I did not feel.

‘Yes,’ agreed Humphrey. ‘Some useless nonentity or some American geriatric.’

‘Not necessarily,’ I replied.