The Complete Yes Minister

While I was taking this on the chin, he came in with another right hook to the head. ‘And if you persist with your Bureaucratic Watchdog Office, there’ll be at least another four hundred new jobs there as well.’

I was shattered. My head was aching, I felt sick, my career seemed to be in ruins, I was being pilloried in the press and the only idea of mine that I’ve managed to push through since I’ve been here had now to be abandoned.

Yet, throughout, from my first day here, all the permanent officials appear to have been doing their best to help me in every possible way. So are they completely inept? Or am I? Are they pretending to help while secretly obstructing my every move? Or are they incapable of understanding a new approach to the Department’s work? Do they try to help me by pushing me towards the Ministry’s policy? Is there a difference between the Minister’s policy and the Ministry’s policy? Why am I asking so many questions to which there is no known answer? How deep is the ocean, how high is the sky? [Irving Berlin – Ed.]

There was silence in the office. I didn’t know what we were going to do about the four hundred new people supervising our economy drive or the four hundred new people for the Bureaucratic Watchdog Office, or anything! I simply sat and waited and hoped that my head would stop thumping and that some idea would be suggested by someone sometime soon.

Sir Humphrey obliged. ‘Minister . . . if we were to end the economy drive and close the Bureaucratic Watchdog Office we could issue an immediate press announcement that you had axed eight hundred jobs.’ He had obviously thought this out carefully in advance, for at this moment he produced a slim folder from under his arm. ‘If you’d like to approve this draft. . . .’

I couldn’t believe the impertinence of the suggestion. Axed eight hundred jobs? ‘But no one was ever doing these jobs,’ I pointed out incredulously. ‘No one’s been appointed yet.’

‘Even greater economy,’ he replied instantly. ‘We’ve saved eight hundred redundancy payments as well.’

‘But . . .’ I attempted to explain ‘. . . that’s just phony. It’s dishonest, it’s juggling with figures, it’s pulling the wool over people’s eyes.’

‘A government press release, in fact,’ said Humphrey. I’ve met some cynical politicians in my time, but this remark from my Permanent Secretary was a real eye-opener.

I nodded weakly. Clearly if I was to avoid the calamity of four hundred new people employed to make economies, I had to give up the four hundred new people in my cherished Watchdog Office. An inevitable quid pro quo. After all, politics is the art of the possible. [A saying generally attributed to R. A. Butler, but actually said by Bismarck (1815–98) in 1867, in conversation with Meyer von Waldeck: ‘Die Politik ist die Lehre von Möglichen’ – Ed.]

However, one vital central question, the question that was at the root of this whole débâcle, remained completely unanswered. ‘But Humphrey,’ I said. ‘How are we actually going to slim down the Civil Service?’

There was a pause. Then he said: ‘Well . . . I suppose we could lose one or two of the tea ladies.’

¹ The Bureaucratic Watchdog was an innovation of Hacker’s, to which members of the public were invited to report any instances of excessive government bureaucracy which they encountered personally. It was disbanded after four months.

² In conversation with the Editors.

4

Big Brother

January 4th

Nothing of interest happened over Christmas. I spent the week in the constituency. I went to the usual Christmas parties for the constituency party, the old people’s home, the general hospital, and assorted other gatherings and it all went off quite well – I got my photo in the local rag four or five times, and avoided saying anything that committed me to anything.

I sensed a sort of resentment, though, and have become aware that I’m in a double-bind situation. The local party, the constituency, my family, all of them are proud of me for getting into the Cabinet – yet they are all resentful that I have less time to spend on them and are keen to remind me that I’m nothing special, just their local MP, and that I mustn’t get ‘too big for my boots’. They manage both to grovel and patronise me simultaneously. It’s hard to know how to handle it.

If only I could tell them what life is really like in Whitehall, they would know that there’s absolutely no danger of my getting too big for my boots. Sir Humphrey Appleby will see to that.

Back to London today for a TV interview on Topic, with Robert McKenzie. He asked me lots of awkward questions about the National Data Base.