The Complete Yes Minister

‘At all events,’ I said, summing up the situation, ‘you will appreciate that the public outcry in response to all these leaks makes it very difficult for me to develop a national transport policy within the DAA.’

Sir Humphrey agreed vigorously. ‘The time is unripe. The climate is unpropitious. The atmosphere is unfavourable.’

‘And,’ I nodded, ‘the only two lines of approach are now blocked.’

Again there was a silence. Again Arnold and Mark stared at me. Then they stared at each other. Defeat stared at them both. Finally Sir Arnold resigned himself to the inevitable.

But he tried to put as good a face on it as he could. He raised the oldest idea as if it were the latest inspiration. ‘I wonder,’ he addressed himself to Sir Mark, ‘if it might not be wiser to take the whole matter back to the Department of Transport?’

I seized on the suggestion. ‘Now that, Arnold,’ I said, flattering him fulsomely, ‘is a brilliant idea.’

‘I wish I’d thought of that,’ said Humphrey wistfully.

So we were all agreed.

But Sir Mark was still worried. ‘There remains the question of the leaks,’ he remarked.

‘Indeed there does,’ I agreed. ‘And in my view we should treat this as a matter of utmost gravity. So I have a proposal.’

‘Indeed?’ enquired Sir Arnold.

‘Will you recommend to the PM,’ I said, in my most judicial voice, ‘that we set up an immediate leak enquiry?’

Sir Arnold, Sir Mark and Sir Humphrey responded in grateful unison. ‘Yes Minister,’ replied the three knights.

¹ ‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts’ is the usual rough translation.

² London School of Economics.

³ A hole in the head.

⁴ In conversation with the Editors.

⁵ Department of Education and Science.

⁶ Originally said by Frederick the Great, King Frederick II of Prussia.

19

The Whisky Priest

September 4th

A most significant and upsetting event has just taken place. It is Sunday night. Annie and I are in our London flat, having returned early from the constituency.

I had a mysterious phone call as I walked in through the door. I didn’t know who it was from. All the man said was that he was an army officer and that he had something to tell me that he wouldn’t divulge on the phone.

We arranged an appointment for late this evening. Annie read the Sunday papers and I read The Wilderness Years, one of my favourite books.

The man arrived very late for our appointment. I began to think that something had happened to him. By the time he’d arrived my fantasies were working overtime – perhaps because of The Wilderness Years.

‘Remember Churchill,’ I said to Annie. ‘During all his wilderness years he got all his information about our military inadequacy and Hitler’s war machine from army officers. So all the time he was in the wilderness he leaked stories to the papers and embarrassed the government. That’s what I could do.’

I realised, as I spoke, that I’d chosen inappropriate words to express my feelings. I felt a little ridiculous as Annie said, ‘But you’re in the government.’ Surely she could see what I meant!

Anyway, the man finally arrived. He introduced himself as Major Saunders. He was about forty years old, and wore the de rigueur slightly shabby baggy blue pinstripe suit. Like all these chaps he looked like an overgrown prep school pupil.

He was not a frightfully good conversationalist to start with. Or perhaps he was just rather overawed to meet a statesman such as myself.

I introduced him to Annie and offered him a drink.

‘Thanks,’ he said.

‘Scotch?’

‘Thanks.’

I told him to sit down.

‘Thanks.’

I told him there was no need to keep thanking me.

‘Thanks,’ he said, then corrected himself. ‘Sorry.’

Annie told him there was no need to apologise either.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I mean, thanks. I mean . . .’

Clearly my eminence was reducing this chap to a sort of jelly.

Annie offered to go and let us chaps talk in private, but for some reason he seemed anxious for her to stay. Can’t think why. Anyway, he asked if she could stay and of course I agreed.

‘I have no secrets from Annie,’ I explained. ‘I tell her everything.’

‘Several times, normally,’ she added cheerfully.

I do wish she wouldn’t make jokes like that. People might think that she means them.

I decided to establish whether the slightly cloak-and-dagger air about our meeting was, in fact, necessary. ‘Is this matter highly confidential?’ I asked.

‘Well, fairly,’ he replied, rather on edge. Clearly ‘fairly’ was a bit of traditional British understatement.

‘Shall I turn on the radio?’ I offered.

He seemed surprised. ‘Why – is there something good on?’

I don’t know what they teach these army chaps nowadays. I explained that I was suggesting that we play the radio to avoid being bugged. He asked if it was likely that we were being bugged. How does one know the answer to that? But then Annie reminded me that, as I am the Minister in charge of bugging politicians, it wasn’t awfully likely.