The Complete Yes Minister

The first question was from Jim Lawford of Birmingham South-West who had asked me about the government’s pledge to reduce the number of administrators in the Health Service.

I gave the prepared reply, which was a little self-congratulatory – to the civil servants who wrote it, of course, not to me!

[We have found the relevant exchange in Hansard, and reprint it below – Ed.]

Somebody had leaked this wretched paper to Lawford. He was waving it about with a kind of wild glee, his fat face shining with excitement. Everyone was shouting for an answer. Humphrey – or somebody – had been up to his old tricks again, disguising an increase in the numbers of administrative and secretarial staff simply by calling them by some other name. But a rose by any other name is still a rose, as Wordsworth said. [In fact, Shakespeare said ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’ But Hacker was an ex-journalist and Polytechnic Lecturer – Ed.] This looked like it was going to be a real political stink. And a stink by any other name is still a stink. [Or a stink by any other name would smell as bad? – Ed.] Had it stayed secret, it would have been seen as a brilliant manoeuvre to pass off an increase of staff by 7% as a decrease of 11.3% – but when leaked, it suddenly comes into the category of a shabby deception. What’s more, an unsuccessful shabby deception – quite the worst kind!

I stalled rather well in the circumstances:

Thank God one of my own backbenchers came to my rescue. Gerry Chandler asked me if I could reassure my friends that the enquiries would not be carried out by my own Department but by an independent investigator who would command the respect of the House. I was forced to say that I was happy to give that assurance.

So I just about satisfied the House on that one. However, I shall have to have a very serious talk about the whole matter with Humphrey and Bernard tomorrow. I don’t mind the deception, but allowing me to look ridiculous at Question Time is simply not on!

It’s not even in their interest – I wasn’t able to defend the Department, was I?

March 16th

This morning started none too well, either.

Roy [Hacker’s driver, and like all drivers, one of the best-informed men in Whitehall – Ed.] picked me up as usual, at about 8.30. I asked him to drive me to the Ministry, as I was to spend all morning on Health Service administration.

He started needling me right away.

‘Chap just been talking about that on the radio,’ he said casually. ‘Saying the trouble with the health and education and transport services is that all the top people in government go to private hospitals and send their kids to private schools . . .’

I laughed it off, though I sounded a little mirthless, I fear. ‘Very good. Comedy programme, was it?’

This egalitarian stuff, though daft, is always a little dangerous if it’s not watched very carefully.

‘And they go to work in chauffeur-driven cars,’ added my chauffeur.

I didn’t deign to reply. So he persisted.

‘Don’t you think there’s something in it? I mean, if you and Sir Humphrey Appleby went to work on a number 27 . . .’

I interrupted him. ‘Quite impracticable,’ I explained firmly. ‘We work long enough hours as it is, without spending an extra hour a day waiting at the bus stop.’

‘Yes,’ said Roy. ‘You’d have to make the bus service much more efficient, wouldn’t you?’

‘We certainly would,’ I said, trying to dismiss the subject quickly.

‘Yes,’ said Roy. ‘That’s what he was saying, see?’ The man should be a television interviewer.

‘Same with the Health Service,’ Roy continued inexorably. ‘You a member of BUPA, sir?’

It was none of his bloody business. But I didn’t say so. Instead, I smiled sweetly and asked if there was anything on the radio.

‘Yesterday in Parliament, I think sir,’ he replied, reaching for the switch.

‘No, no, no, don’t bother, don’t bother,’ I shrieked casually, but too late. He switched it on, and I was forced to listen to myself.

Roy listened with great interest. After it got to Second Order he switched it off. There was a bit of an awkward silence.

‘I got away with it, didn’t I?’ I asked hopefully.

Roy chuckled. ‘You were lucky they didn’t ask you about that new St Edward’s Hospital,’ he said jovially.

‘Why?’

‘Well . . .’ he smacked his lips. ‘They finished building it fifteen months ago – and it’s still got no patients.’

‘I suppose,’ I said, ‘the DHSS haven’t got enough money to staff it.’

‘Oh, it’s got staff,’ said Roy. ‘Five hundred administrators. Just no patients.’

Could this be true? It hardly seemed possible.

‘Who told you this?’ I asked cautiously.

‘The lip.’

‘The lip?’