The Complete Yes Minister

After the meeting was over Humphrey, Bernard and I strolled back across Whitehall to the DAA. It was a lovely sunny autumn day with a cool breeze from the river. I was feeling fairly positive about it all, though desperately hoping that I had not misunderstood Sir Mark’s intentions. It seemed to me that I had just been as loyal as could be to the PM, even though I’d upset Sir Humphrey more than somewhat.

Humphrey didn’t speak all the way back to the Department. He was too angry. Bernard didn’t either. He was too frightened.

In fact, nothing was said until we were back in my office. Humphrey had followed me into my room, so clearly he did have something to say to me.

I shut the door and looked at him expectantly.

‘That was a big help Minister,’ he began bitterly.

‘I did my best,’ I replied with a modest smile.

He stared at me, trying to understand why I had behaved as I had. He must have thought that I had gone out of my mind.

‘You did your best for yourself, perhaps,’ he said. ‘So this is your idea of teamwork, is it? Most amusing, if I may say so.’

I felt I should explain. So I started to say that I had to do it, that I’d had no choice. He wouldn’t listen.

‘You had to do what? Cravenly admitting everything to that Committee. Don’t you realise how utterly calamitous this has been for us?’

‘Not for me, I hope,’ I replied.

He shook his head, more in sorrow than in anger. ‘You hope in vain, Minister. The Department will be up in arms – they will have very little confidence in you in future. And as for Number Ten – well, I shudder to think how the PM may react to a public admission of failure.’

I said nothing. As I sat there, wondering for a moment if I’d made a ghastly mistake, Bernard knocked and came in. He was holding an envelope.

‘Excuse me, Minister, sorry to interrupt,’ he said nervously, ‘but here’s a personal letter from the Prime Minister.’

He handed it to me. Sir Humphrey shook his head. I ripped it open. As I read it I was aware of Humphrey’s voice.

‘I did warn you,’ it was saying. ‘Bernard, perhaps you should give some thought to drafting a face-saving letter of resignation for the Minister.’

I read the letter. [We reproduce it below – Ed.]

10 Downing Street

15th October

The Prime Minister

Dear Jim,

We haven’t seen enough of each other lately. Would you be free to lunch at Chequers on Sunday? We shall be just the family. Do please bring Annie and Lucy.

I look forward so much to seeing you and perhaps we could catch up on each other’s news.

Then I read it aloud.

Humphrey’s face was a picture of confusion. ‘I don’t think I quite . . .’ he said, and then the penny dropped. ‘A conspiracy!’ he hissed at me. ‘That drink with Mark Spencer!’

I just smiled. The gamble had paid off. I reread the letter. It was a triumph. ‘We haven’t seen enough of each other lately . . . lunch at Chequers . . . just the family . . .’ And it is handwritten.

‘Do you know what this letter is worth, Humphrey?’ I asked with quiet pride.

‘I believe the going rate is thirty pieces of silver,’ he replied nastily.

I shook my head. ‘No Humphrey,’ I said with supreme confidence. ‘Integrity and loyalty have been rewarded.’

‘Loyalty?’ he sneered contemptuously. ‘Loyalty?’

I just couldn’t resist rubbing his nose in it. ‘Yes Humphrey. I supported you just the way you have always supported me. Isn’t that so?’

He really didn’t know how to answer that. A sort of snorting noise emanated from behind his clenched teeth.

‘Did you say something, Humphrey?’ I asked politely.

‘I think,’ said Bernard, ‘that he said “Yes Minister.”’

¹ In conversation with the Editors.

² In conversation with the Editors.

15

Equal Opportunities

October 23rd

Today was a fairly quiet Saturday afternoon in the constituency. The end of our first year and I was feeling that I’ve done pretty well, one way or another: no great cock-ups after my first-ever year in office (or at least, none which we haven’t survived somehow) and I have a sense that I am beginning to understand the administrative machine at last.

You may think that a year is rather too long a period in which to achieve an understanding of the one department of which I am the titular head. In political terms, of course, that’s true. Nonetheless if, had I become Chairman of ICI after a lifetime as a journalist and polytechnic lecturer and with no previous experience of running a major industry, I had a thorough understanding of how it all worked after only one year, I would be considered a great success.

We politicians blunder into Whitehall like babes in the wood. So few of us have ever run anything before, other than a medical practice, a law firm, or a political journal – and suddenly we find ourselves the head of a ministry with between twenty thousand and a hundred thousand employees.