The Complete Yes Minister

This seemed to matter to him greatly. But it cut no ice with me.

‘Whoever drafted that contract,’ I insisted, ‘ought to be damaged if he’s still alive.’

‘Oh, quite, absolutely, no question of protecting officials. Of course not. But responsible Ministers . . .’

I interrupted him. I wasn’t the least concerned about some Minister who’d been responsible thirty years ago. It couldn’t matter less. Anyway, the other lot were in office then, so it’s fairly amusing.

I simply couldn’t figure out the reason for his intense opposition to releasing these papers. I asked him why he was so concerned.

He sat back in his chair and crossed his legs casually. ‘I’m not. Not at all. I mean, not personally. But it’s the principle, the precedent . . . the . . . the . . .’ he was lost for words ‘. . . the policy.’

Trapped. I’d got him. ‘Policy’s up to me, Humphrey, remember?’ I said with a smile. And before he could continue the argument I added, ‘And I’ve promised, so it’s done now, okay?’

He just sat there, sagging slightly, looking at me. Evidently he was trying to decide whether or not to say something. Finally he gave up. He stood wearily and, without looking at me, walked silently out of the room and shut the door behind him.

He seemed tired, listless, and quite without his usual energy.

Bernard had been present throughout the meeting. He waited, patiently, as usual, to be either used or dismissed.

I gazed at the door which Humphrey had closed quietly behind him.

‘What’s the matter with Humphrey?’ I asked. There was no reply from Bernard. ‘Have I done something wrong?’ Again there was no reply. ‘There aren’t any security aspects, are there?’ This time I waited a while, but answer came there none. ‘So what is the problem?’ I turned to look at Bernard, who appeared to be staring vacantly into space like a contented heifer chewing the cud.

‘Am I talking to myself?’

He turned his gaze in my direction.

‘No Minister, I am listening.’

‘Then why don’t you reply?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I thought your questions were purely rhetorical. I can see no reason for Sir Humphrey to be so anxious.’

And then the penny dropped.

Suddenly I saw it.

I didn’t know how I could have been so blind. So dumb. And yet, the answer – obvious though it was – seemed scarcely credible.

‘Unless . . .’ I began, and then looked at Bernard. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’

He looked puzzled. ‘I don’t think so, Minister,’ he replied cautiously, and then added with a flash of cheerful honesty, ‘I’m not thinking anything really.’

‘I think,’ I said, uncertain how to broach it, ‘that I smell a rat.’

‘Oh. Shall I fetch an Environmental Health Officer?’

I didn’t like actually to put my suspicions into words. Not yet. I thought I’d go carefully. So I asked Bernard how long Sir Humphrey had been here at the Department of Administrative Affairs.

‘Oh, all his career, hasn’t he? Ever since it was founded.’

‘When was that?’ I asked.

‘1964. Same time that they started the Department of Economic Affairs . . .’ he stopped dead, and stared at me, wide-eyed. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Now I think I’m thinking what you’re thinking.’

‘Well?’ I asked.

He wanted to be cautious too. ‘You’re thinking: where was he before 1964?’

I nodded slowly.

‘It’ll be in Who’s Who.’ He stood, then hurried to the glass-fronted mahogany bookcase near the marble fireplace. He fished out Who’s Who, talking as he leafed through the pages. ‘He must have been in some other Department, and been trawled when the DAA started. [‘Trawled’, i.e. caught in a net, is the standard Civil Service word for ‘head-hunting’ through other departments – Ed.]

He ran his forefinger down a page, and said in one sentence: ‘Ah here we are oh my God!’

I waited.

Bernard turned to me. ‘From 1950 to 1956 he was an Assistant Principal at the Scottish Office. Not only that. He was on secondment from the War Office. His job was Regional Contracts Officer. Thirty years ago.’

There could be no doubt who the culprit was. The official who had chucked away that forty million pounds of the taxpayers’ money was the current Permanent Under-Secretary of the Department of Administrative Affairs, Sir Humphrey Appleby, KCB, MVO, MA (Oxon).

Bernard said, ‘This is awful,’ but his eyes were twinkling.

‘Terrible,’ I agreed, and found myself equally unable to prevent a smile creeping across my face. ‘And the papers are all due for release in a few weeks’ time.’

I suddenly felt awfully happy. And I told Bernard to get Humphrey back into my office at once.

He picked up the phone and dialled. ‘Hello Graham, it’s Bernard. The Minister wondered if Sir Humphrey could spare some time for a meeting some time in the next couple of days.’

‘At once,’ I said.

‘In fact, some time during the course of today is really what the Minister has in mind.’

‘At once,’ I repeated.

‘Or to be precise, any time within the next sixty seconds really.’