The Complete Yes Minister

[Hacker reckoned without the pressures that the Civil Service can apply to its own people. Sir Humphrey enquired about the fourth draft report several times over the next two weeks, and observed that Bernard Woolley was giving evasive answers. Finally, Bernard was invited for a disciplinary drink at Sir Humphrey’s Club in Pall Mall. We have found a memo about the meeting among Sir Humphrey’s private papers – Ed.]

B. W. came for a drink at the Club.

I questioned him about the Department’s Report to the Think-Tank.

He said, ‘You mean, the Minister’s report?’, a not-insignificant remark.

In answer to my questions as to why we had not yet had it returned to us, he suggested that I ask the Minister. A most unsatisfactory reply.

I explained that I had chosen to ask him. As he remained stubbornly silent, I observed that he did not seem to be replying.

‘Yes and no,’ he said. He knows full well that this is one of my favourite replies, and I felt obliged to tick him off for impertinence.

In answer to other questions, B.W. insisted that the Minister is doing his boxes conscientiously, but repeatedly refused to explain the delay over the draft report, merely advising me to enquire of the Minister as he (B.W.) was the Minister’s Private Secretary.

He appeared to be anxious about his situation, and clearly had been put under some obligation by the Minister to treat some piece of information in strict confidence. I therefore decided to increase his anxiety considerably, to the extent that he would be obliged to find a way of either satisfying both myself and his Minister, and therefore showing that he is worthy to be a flyer [‘High Flyer’ means young man destined for the very top of the Service – Ed.] or of taking one side or the other, thereby revealing an inability to walk a tightrope in a high wind.

I therefore reminded him that he was an employee of the DAA. And, admirable though it is to be loyal to his Minister, an average Minister’s tenure is a mere eleven months whereas Bernard’s career will, he hopes, last until the age of sixty.

B.W. handled the situation with skill. He opted for asking me a hypothetical question, always a good idea.

He asked me: If a purely hypothetical Minister were to be unhappy with a departmental draft of evidence to a committee, and if the hypothetical Minister were to be planning to replace it with his own hypothetical draft worked out with his own political advisers at his party HQ, and if this Minister was planning to bring in his own draft so close to the final date for evidence that there would be no time to redraft it, and if the hypothetical Private Secretary were to be aware of this hypothetical draft – in confidence – should the hypothetical Private Secretary pass on the information to the Perm. Sec. of the hypothetical Department?

A good question. Naturally, I answered B.W. by saying that no Private Secretary should pass on such information, if given in confidence.

B. W. shows more promise than I thought. [Appleby Papers 23/RPY/13c]

February 1st

It is now two weeks since I decided to take over the Think-Tank report. My final redraft is going well. Frank and his chaps have been hard at work on it, and I’ve been burning the midnight oil as well. The situation seems to be infuriating Humphrey, which gives me some considerable pleasure.

Today he again asked me about my redraft of the redraft of the draft. ‘What about the evidence to the Central Policy Review Staff?’ he said.

‘You mean the Think-Tank?’ I said playing for time.

‘Yes Minister.’

‘Why do you want it?’ I asked.

‘So that we can redraft it.’

‘That won’t be necessary.’

‘I think it will, Minister.’

‘Humphrey,’ I said firmly, ‘drafting is not a Civil Service monopoly.’

‘It is a highly specialised skill,’ he replied, ‘which few people outside the Service can master.’

‘Nonsense,’ I said. ‘Drafts are easy. It’s a game anyone can play.’

‘Not without getting huffed,’ he answered. Actually, he’s quite witty, really.

I chuckled at his joke, and changed the subject. But he didn’t let me get away with it. ‘So can I have the draft back, please?’ he persisted.

‘Of course,’ I said, with a smile. He waited. In vain.

‘When, Minister?’ he asked, trying to smile back, but definitely through clenched teeth.

‘Later,’ I said airily.

‘But when?’ he snarled through his smile.

‘You always say we mustn’t rush things,’ I said irritatingly.