The Complete Yes Minister

‘Many more,’ I added firmly.

Now Sir Humphrey really was taken aback. His mind was racing. He just couldn’t see what I was driving at. ‘But we’re actually quite well up to Establishment on typists, cleaners, tea-ladies . . .’ He petered out, then sought advice. ‘Any ideas, Bernard?’

‘Well,’ said Bernard helpfully, ‘we are a bit short of temporary secretaries.’

Clearly Bernard had not got the point either.

‘I’m talking about Permanent Secretaries,’ I said.

Sir Humphrey was stunned. He seemed unable to formulate a sentence in reply. So I went on.

‘We need some female mandarins.’ Sir Humphrey was still mentally pole-axed. He didn’t respond at all. Bernard also seemed completely baffled. He sought clarification.

‘Sort of . . . satsumas, Minister?’ he enquired desperately.

I’m never quite sure if Bernard has a highly-intelligent deadpan wit, or is faintly moronic. So I merely told him to sit down.

‘How many Permanent Secretaries,’ I asked Sir Humphrey, ‘are there at the moment?’

‘Forty-one, I believe.’

A precise answer.

‘Forty-one,’ I agreed pleasantly. ‘And how many are women?’

Suddenly Sir Humphrey’s memory seemed to fail him. ‘Well, broadly speaking, not having the exact figures to hand, I’m not exactly sure.’

‘Well, approximately?’ I encouraged him to reply.

‘Well,’ he said cautiously, ‘approximately none.’

Close but no cigar, as our American allies would say. Precisely none was the correct answer. And Sir Humphrey knew that only too well. [Hacker was right. The Permanent Secretaries form an exclusive little club in all but name, so exclusive that a newly-nominated Permanent Secretary could, in effect, be blackballed. This would be an ‘informal’ process not fully clear to their political ‘Lords and Masters’, but nonetheless effective for all that – Ed.]

I was beginning to enjoy myself. ‘And I believe there are one hundred and fifty Deputy Secretaries,’ I continued gleefully. ‘Do you know how many of them are women?’

Sir Humphrey hedged. Either he genuinely didn’t know the answer to this one, or wasn’t going to say if he did. ‘It’s difficult to say,’ was the best reply he could manage.

This surprised me. ‘Why is it difficult?’ I wanted to know.

Bernard tried to be helpful again. ‘Well, there’s a lot of old women among the men.’

I ignored him. ‘Four,’ I said to Humphrey. ‘Four women Dep. Secs out of one hundred and fifty-three, to be precise.’

Sir Humphrey seemed impressed that there were so many. ‘Are there indeed,’ he said, slightly wide-eyed.

I had enjoyed my little bit of fun. Now I came bluntly to the point. I had a proposal to make. I’ve been thinking about it since my first conversation with Sarah.

‘I am going to announce,’ I announced, ‘a quota of twenty-five per cent women Deputy Secretaries and Permanent Secretaries to be achieved within the next four years.’

I think Sir Humphrey was rattled, but it was hard to tell because he’s such a smooth operator.

‘Minister, I am obviously in total sympathy with your objectives,’ he said. This remark naturally increased my suspicions.

‘Good,’ I said.

‘Of course there should be more women at the top. Of course. And all of us are deeply concerned by the apparent imbalance.’ I noted the skilful use of the word ‘apparent’. ‘But these things take time.’

I was ready for that one. ‘I want to make a start right away,’ I replied.

‘I agree wholeheartedly,’ responded Sir Humphrey enthusiastically. ‘And I propose that we make an immediate start by setting up an interdepartmental committee . . .’

This was not what I meant, and he knew it. I told him firmly that I didn’t want the usual delaying tactics.

‘This needs a sledgehammer,’ I declared. ‘We must cut through the red tape.’

Bloody Bernard piped up again. ‘You can’t cut tape with a sledgehammer, it would just . . .’ and then he made a sort of squashing gesture. I squashed him with a look.

Humphrey seemed upset that I’d accused him of delaying tactics. ‘Minister, you do me an injustice,’ he complained. ‘I was not about to suggest delaying tactics.’

Perhaps I had done him an injustice. I apologised, and waited to see what he was about to suggest.

‘I was merely going to suggest,’ he murmured in a slightly hurt tone, ‘that if we are to have a twenty-five per cent quota of women we must have a much larger intake at the recruitment stage. So that eventually we’ll have twenty-five per cent in the top jobs.’

‘When?’ I asked.

I knew the answer before he said it. ‘In twenty-five years.’

‘No, Humphrey,’ I said, still smiling and patient. ‘I don’t think you’ve quite got my drift. I’m talking about now.’

At last Sir Humphrey got the point. ‘Oh,’ he said, staggered. ‘You mean – now!’