The Complete Yes Minister

Sir Humphrey, to my intense surprise, was completely unconcerned. Not only that, he knew. He told me that all contracts in Qumran were obtained by bribery. ‘Everybody knows that. It’s perfectly all right as long as nobody knows.’

I was pretty sure that the Minister didn’t know. I suggested telling him.

‘Certainly not,’ Sir Humphrey admonished me.

‘But if everybody knows . . .’

‘Everybody else,’ he said firmly. ‘You do not necessarily let Ministers know what everybody else knows.’

At the crucial moment in the discussion two people converged upon us. From our right, His Royal Highness, Prince Feisal. And from our left, the Minister, looking distinctly the worse for wear.

‘Ah, Lawrence of Arabia,’ cried Hacker as he lurched towards Sir Humphrey. ‘There’s a message for you in the communications room.’

‘Oh?’ said Sir Humphrey, ‘who is it this time?’

‘Napoleon,’ announced the Minister, giggled, then fell to the floor.

[Hacker’s diary continues – Ed.]

May 19th

Back in England, and back at the office. Feel rather jet-lagged. I often wonder if we statesmen really are capable of making the wisest decisions for our countries in the immediate aftermath of foreign travel.

Today there was a most unfortunate story in the Financial Times, reporting a story from the French press.

I showed it to Bernard. A lot of use that was!

‘Webs don’t form blots, Minister,’ was his comment.

‘What?’ I said.

‘Spiders don’t have ink, you see. Only cuttlefish.’ Sometimes I think that Bernard is completely off his head. Spiders don’t have cuttlefish. I couldn’t see what he meant at all. Sometimes I wonder if he says these idiotic things so that he can avoid answering my questions. [Another sign of Hacker’s growing awareness – Ed.]

So I asked him, directly, what he thought about publishing a baseless accusation of this kind against British Electronic Systems.

He muttered that it was terrible, and agreed with me that the squalid world of baksheesh and palm-greasing is completely foreign to our nature. ‘After all, we are British,’ I remarked.

He agreed without hesitation that we are British.

But there was something shifty in his manner. So I didn’t let it drop. ‘And yet,’ I said, ‘it’s not like the FT to print this sort of thing unless there’s something behind it.’

And I looked at him and waited. Bernard seemed to me to be affecting an air of studious unconcern.

‘There isn’t anything behind it, is there Bernard?’

He got to his feet, and looked at the newspaper. ‘I think the sports news is behind it, Minister.’

Clearly there is something behind it, and clearly Bernard has been told to keep his mouth shut. Tomorrow I have a meeting with Humphrey first thing in the morning. And I intend to get to the bottom of this matter.

May 20th

My meeting with Humphrey.

I began by showing him the article in the FT. Though I think Bernard must have drawn his attention to it already.

I told him that I wanted to know the truth.

‘I don’t think you do, Minister.’

‘Will you answer a direct question, Humphrey?’

He hesitated momentarily. ‘Minister, I strongly advise you not to ask a direct question.’

‘Why?’

‘It might provoke a direct answer.’

‘It never has yet.’

It was clear to me yesterday that Bernard knows something about all this. I don’t think he was levelling with me. So today I put him on the spot, in front of Humphrey, so that he couldn’t say one thing to his Minister and another to his Permanent Secretary. [This brilliant move by Hacker struck at the heart of the entire Private Secretary system – Ed.]

‘Bernard, on your word of honour, do you know anything about this?’

He stared at me like a frightened rabbit. His eyes flickered briefly at Sir Humphrey who – like me – was gazing at him in the hope (but without the confidence) that he would say the appropriate thing.

Bernard clearly didn’t know how to reply, proof enough that he knew something fishy had been going on.

‘Well, I, er, that is, there was, er, someone did . . .’

Humphrey interrupted hastily. ‘There was a lot of gossip, that’s all. Rumour. Hearsay.’

I ignored Humphrey. ‘Come on Bernard.’

‘Um . . . well, one of the Qumranis did tell me he had received, er, been paid . . .’

‘Hearsay, Minister,’ cried Humphrey indignantly.

I indicated Bernard. ‘Hearsay?’

‘Yes,’ Humphrey was emphatic. ‘Bernard heard him say it.’

Clearly I was going to get nothing further out of Bernard. But he’d told me all I needed to know.

‘Humphrey. Are you telling me that BES got the contract through bribery?’

He looked pained. ‘I wish you wouldn’t use words like “bribery”, Minister.’

I asked if he’d prefer that I use words like slush fund, sweeteners, or brown envelopes. He patronisingly informed me that these are, in his view, extremely crude and unworthy expressions for what is no more than creative negotiation. ‘It is the general practice,’ he asserted.