The Complete Yes Minister

I didn’t deign to reply. Besides, I couldn’t think of an answer.

[The Civil Service phrase for making a new Minister see things their way is ‘house-training’. When a Minister is so house-trained that he automatically sees everything from the Civil Service point of view, this is known in Westminster as the Minister having ‘gone native’ – Ed.]

Sir Humphrey came in, brandishing a copy of the Daily Mail. ‘Have you read this?’ he began.

This was too much. I exploded. ‘Yes. Yes! Yes!!! I have read that sodding newspaper. I have read it, you have read it, we have all bloody read it. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?’

‘Abundantly, Minister,’ said Sir Humphrey coldly, after a brief pained silence.

I recovered my temper, and invited them all to sit down. ‘Humphrey,’ I said, ‘we simply have to slim down the Civil Service. How many people are there in this Department?’

‘This Department?’ He seemed evasive. ‘Oh well, we’re very small.’

‘How small?’ I asked, and receiving no reply, I decided to hazard a guess. ‘Two thousand? . . . three thousand?’ I suggested, fearing the worst.

‘About twenty-three thousand I think, Minister?’

I was staggered. Twenty-three thousand people? In the Department of Administrative Affairs? Twenty-three thousand administrators, all to administer other administrators?

‘We’ll have to do an O & M,’ I said. [Organisation and Method Study – Ed.] ‘See how many we can do without.’

‘We did one of those last year,’ said Sir Humphrey blandly. ‘And we discovered we needed another five hundred people. However, Minister, we could always close your Bureaucratic Watchdog Department.’¹

I’d been expecting this. I know Humphrey doesn’t like it. How could he? But we are not cutting it. Firstly, it’s a very popular measure with the voters. And secondly, it’s the only thing I’ve achieved since I’ve been here.

‘It is a chance for the ordinary citizen to help us find ways to stop wasting government money,’ I reiterated.

‘The public,’ said Sir Humphrey, ‘do not know anything about wasting public money. We are the experts.’

I grinned. ‘Can I have that in writing?’

Humphrey got very tetchy. ‘You know that’s not what I meant,’ he snapped. ‘The Watchdog Office is merely a troublemaker’s letter box.’

‘It stays,’ I replied.

We gazed at each other, icily. Finally Sir Humphrey said: ‘Well, offhand, I don’t know what other economies to suggest.’

This was ludicrous. ‘Are you seriously trying to tell me,’ I asked, ‘that there’s nothing we can cut down on?’

He shrugged. ‘Well . . . I suppose we could lose one or two of the tea ladies.’

I exploded again. I told him not to be ridiculous. I told him I wanted facts, answers. I listed them:

How many people work here?

What do they all do?

How many buildings do we have?

Who and what is in these buildings?

I spelt it out. I demanded a complete study. First of all we’ll put our own house in order. Then we’ll deal with the rest of Whitehall. With a complete study, we’ll be able to see where to cut costs, cut staff, and cut procedures.

Sir Humphrey listened with some impatience. ‘The Civil Service, Minister,’ he responded when I paused for breath, ‘merely exists to implement legislation that is enacted by Parliament. So long as Parliament continues to legislate for more and more control over people’s lives, the Civil Service must grow.’

‘Ha!’ Frank made a derisive noise.

Sir Humphrey turned towards him with a glassy stare. ‘Am I to infer that Mr Weisel disagrees with me?’

‘Ha!’ repeated Frank.

Frank was getting on my nerves too. ‘Frank, either laugh thoroughly, or not at all,’ I instructed.

‘Minister.’ Humphrey stood up. ‘I am fully seized of your requirements, so if you’ll excuse me I think I’d better set the wheels in motion.’

After Sir H. left Frank told me that there was a cover-up going on. Apparently a North-West Regional controller has achieved cuts of £32 million in his region alone. And the Civil Service has suppressed news of it. I asked why. ‘They don’t want cuts,’ said Frank impatiently. ‘Asking Sir Humphrey to slim down the Civil Service is like asking an alcoholic to blow up a distillery.’

I asked Bernard if this story were true. Bernard said that he didn’t know, but, if so, he would be aghast. I asked them both to check up on it. Bernard said he’d find out through the grapevine, and I arranged with Frank to do some more ferreting.