‘On the contrary, Minister, it makes
This, of course, was pure sophism. ‘The money should be spent on patient care, surely?’
Sir Humphrey clearly regarded my comment as irrelevant. He pursued his idiotic analogy. ‘When a sacrifice has been made, nobody asks the Priest what happened to the ritual offering after the ceremony.’
Humphrey is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong! In my view the country
‘With respect,3
Minister,’ began Humphrey, one of his favourite insults in his varied repertoire, ‘people merely care that the money is notI rejected that argument. I reminded him of the uproar over the mental hospital scandals.
Cynical as ever, he claimed that such an uproar proved his point. ‘Those abuses had been going on quite happily for decades,’ he said. ‘No one was remotely concerned to find out what was being done with their money – it was their sacrifice, in fact. What outraged them was being told about it.’
I realised that this whole ingenious theory, whether true or false, was being used by Humphrey as a smokescreen. I decided to ask a straight question.
‘Are we or aren’t we agreed that there is no point in keeping a hospital running for the benefit of the staff?’
Humphrey did not give a straight answer.
‘Minister,’ he admonished, ‘that is not how I would have expressed the question.’
Then he fell silent.
I pointed out that that was how I had expressed it.
‘Indeed,’ he said.
And waited.
Clearly, he had no intention of answering any straight question unless it was expressed in terms which he found wholly acceptable.
I gave in. ‘All right,’ I snapped, ‘how would you express it?’
‘At the end of the day,’ he began, ‘
‘One?’ I said. ‘One? What else?’
He refused to admit that I had interrupted him, and continued speaking with utter calm as if I had not said a word. ‘But, until we have the money for the nursing and medical staff, that is a function that we are not able to pursue. Perhaps in eighteen months or so . . .’
‘Eighteen months?’ I was appalled.
‘Yes, perhaps by then we may be able to open a couple of wards,’ he said, acknowledging finally that I had spoken.
I regard this as so much stuff and nonsense. I instructed him to open some wards at once – and more than a couple.
He countered by offering to form an interdepartmental committee to examine the feasibility of monitoring a proposal for admitting patients at an earlier date.
I asked him how long that would take to report.
‘Not long, Minister.’
‘How long?’
I knew the answer before he gave it – ‘Eighteen months,’ we said in unison.
‘Terrific!’ I added sarcastically.
‘Thank you,’ he replied, charmingly unaware. It’s hopeless.
So I made a new suggestion. ‘I suggest that we get rid of everyone currently employed at the hospital and use the money to open closed wards in other hospitals.’
[
‘And when we can afford it,’ I added sarcastically, ‘we’ll open St Edward’s with
Humphrey then argued that if we closed the hospital now we would delay the opening of it
‘What
Humphrey was obviously expecting this question. He promptly handed me a list. A list comprising all the administrative departments and what they do – with or without patients. Extraordinary.
1.
For strikes, air raids, nuclear war, fire epidemics, food or water poisoning, etc. In such a crisis your local general hospital will become a key centre for survival.
2.
Currently this department is conducting a full-scale demographic survey of the catchment area. This is to enable the hospital to anticipate future requirements for maternity, paediatrics, geriatrics and the male/female balance.
3.
Projected accounts, balance sheets, cash flow estimates depending on such variables as admission levels, inflation rate, local and national funding etc.
4.
To purchase medical and other supplies, obtain estimates, review current and future catalogues and price lists.
5.
For evaluating all proposed equipment purchases and comparing cost-effectiveness.
6.