The Complete Yes Minister

‘FA Cup Winners, League Champions, one of the first teams ever into Europe,’ he reminded me.

I interrupted his lecture. ‘I know all this. But be fair, Harry, it’s a local matter. Not ministerial.’ I turned to Wilkinson. ‘Brian, you’re Chairman of the Borough Arts and Leisure Committee. Can’t you do something?’

Attack is always the best form of defence. Wilkinson was instantly apologising in the same vein as me. ‘You’re joking. I spent half yesterday trying to raise seven hundred and eleven quid to repoint the chimney of the Corn Exchange Art Gallery.’

‘That miserable place?’ I asked. ‘Why not just let it fall down?’

He said he’d love to. But if it did actually fall down on somebody the Council would be liable. The Borough owns the place. And, ironically, they keep getting offers for the site. There was one from Safefare Supermarkets only last month.

It was as he said this that I had one of my great flashes of inspiration. From out of nowhere ‘The Idea’ occurred to me. An idea of such brilliance and simplicity that I myself can, even now, be hardly sure that I thought of it all by myself, completely unprompted. But I did! It is ideas of this quality that have taken me to the top of my chosen profession and will take me still higher.

But first I had a question to ask. ‘How much did Safefare offer for the site?’

Brian Wilkinson shrugged and wiped his hands on his trousers. ‘About two million, I think.’

Then I hit them with it. ‘So – if you sold the art gallery you could save the football club.’

They gazed at me, and then at each other, with wild surmise. Both thinking furiously.

‘Can I have a look at it?’ I asked.

We tore out of Aston Park. The traffic had nearly cleared, the fans dispersed, the police horses had done their Saturday afternoon cavalry charge, and all the hooligans had been trampled on or arrested. We raced through the deserted early evening streets to the Corn Exchange. It was due to shut at 5.30. We got there just after it closed.

We stepped out of Harry’s Rolls in front of the art gallery, stood still, and looked up at our target. To tell the truth, I’d never really looked at it before. It is a Victorian monster, red-brick, stained glass, battlements and turrets, big and dark and gloomy.

‘Hideous, isn’t it?’ I said to Brian Wilkinson.

‘Yeah, well, it’s a Grade II listed building, isn’t it?’ he explained.

That certainly is the problem.

September 25th

Today Brian, Harry and I returned to the art gallery. Fortunately it’s open on Sundays too. Annie was pretty fed up this morning. I told her I was going to the art gallery but she didn’t believe me. It’s not really surprising – I didn’t even go into any art galleries when we went to Italy a couple of years ago. My feet get so tired.

The gallery was empty when we got there. So we found the Curator, a pleasant chubby middle-aged lady, and had a little chat with her. She was awfully pleased to see us and of course I didn’t tell her the purpose of our call. I just made it look like I was keeping a fatherly eye on the constituency.

I asked her how popular the gallery is. She answered that it is very popular, and smiled at me.

‘You mean, a lot of people come here?’

She was careful to be honest. ‘Well, I wouldn’t say a lot. But it’s very popular with those who come.’

A slightly evasive response. I pressed her for details; like, the daily average of visitors through the year.

‘Well into double figures,’ she said, as if that were rather a lot.

‘How well?’

‘Um – eleven, on average,’ she admitted, but she added emphatically that they were all very appreciative.

We thanked her for her help and pottered off to look at the pictures. My feet started aching instantly.

At Harry’s office afterwards we went over the details of the proposition. Eleven people per day at the gallery, fifteen to twenty thousand people every week at Aston Wanderers. There is no doubt in any of our minds that our plan is in the public interest.

And the plan is simplicity itself. Close the art gallery, sell it to Safefare Supermarkets, and use the money for an interest-free loan to Aston Wanderers.

Harry sounded a note of caution. ‘There’d have to be a planning inquiry. Change of use. Art gallery to supermarket.’

I could see no problem. There’s no question that this scheme will be immensely popular round here. There’s bound to be some opposition, of course – there’s opposition to everything – but art-lovers aren’t a very powerful lobby compared to the Supporters’ Club. Brian, who is also the Chairman of the Arts Committee, asked me what they could do with the paintings. I suggested that they sell them in the supermarket – if they can!

SIR BERNARD WOOLLEY RECALLS:¹

Hacker had told me of this plan to save his local football club, but I paid no great attention to it. It seemed to me that it was a constituency matter and not relevant to his Ministerial role.