The Complete Yes Minister

[The ceremony in question takes place each June. A large luncheon is given in the Codrington Library of All Souls, followed by an afternoon reception. The degrees are given in a Latin ceremony, in the Sheldonian. All the speeches are in Latin. The Chancellor of the University was, at this period, that arch-manipulator of politicians and, with Sir Harold Wilson, Joint Life President of the Society of Electoral Engineers: Mr Harold Macmillan, as he then was (later Earl of Stockton) – Ed.]

Humphrey, the Master, and the Bursar were – I realised – hinting at an offer. Not an unattractive one. I’ve always secretly regretted not being an Oxbridge man, as I am undoubtedly of sufficient intellectual calibre. And there must be very few LSE men who’ve ever had an honorary degree from Oxford.

The Master dropped another hint. Very decorously. He said that there was still one honorary doctorate of Law to decide, and that he and his colleagues were wondering whether it should go to a judge or to someone in government!

I suggested that someone in government might be more appropriate. Perhaps as a tribute to the Chancellor of the University. I know that I argued it rather brilliantly, because they were so enthusiastic and warm in response to me – but I can’t actually remember precisely how I put it.

Exhausted by the intellectual cut and thrust of the evening, I fell asleep in the car going home.

SIR BERNARD WOOLLEY RECALLS:⁸

Having seen Hacker’s account of this dinner, and his behaviour at it, I’m afraid to say that it is rather inaccurate and self-serving.

By the time we had reached the port Hacker was, not to put too fine a point on it, embarrassingly drunk.

The Master, Sir Humphrey and several of the dons set about persuading him that he would acquire a certain immortality if he became a college benefactor – in other words, if he made Baillie a special case in the matter of overseas students. A typical Oxford ‘you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours’ offer.

Hacker’s reference to the conversation about Wolfson and Jesus Colleges is less than complete. When told that Wolfson is the only man, other than Jesus and St John, to have a college named after him at both Oxford and Cambridge, he looked glassy-eyed and blank. ‘Jesus?’ he asked. The Bursar actually felt called upon to clarify it. ‘Jesus Christ, that is,’ he explained.

When Hacker remarked that he wanted to help he was pouring himself a glass of port. His actual words, I clearly recall, were ‘Yes, well, one would certainly like to help oneself . . . I mean, help one’s friends, that is, help the college . . . not for the honours of course . . .’. He was completely transparent.

The Master and Bursar chimed in with suitable bromides like ‘Perish the thought,’ ‘Ignoble suggestion,’ and so forth.

Hacker then gave us all that guff about how he was in politics to help others, and how he wasn’t interested in honours – but when the honorary doctorates were mentioned he got so excited he cracked a walnut so hard that pieces of shell were flying across High Table like shrapnel.

Then came his final humiliation.

By the time the matter was raised as to whether the last remaining honorary doctorate (if indeed it were so) should go to a judge or a politician, it was clear that the academics were playing games with Hacker.

He was too drunk to see that they were merely amusing themselves. I well remember the appalling drunken speech he launched into. It is forever etched on my memory.

He began by saying ‘Judge? You don’t want to make a judge a doctor of law. Politicians,’ he said, ‘are the ones who make the laws. And pass the laws,’ he added, apparently unaware of the tautology. ‘If it wasn’t for politicians, judges wouldn’t be able to do any judging, they wouldn’t have any laws to judge, know what I mean? They’d all be out of work. Queues of unemployed judges. In silly wigs.’

I remember that argument well because the idea of unemployed judges in silly wigs richly appealed to me, as it would to anyone who has had contact with the higher and more self-satisfied reaches of the legal profession. In fact, I have always been struck by the absurdity of judges ticking people off in court about their unsuitable appearance – women in trousers, for instance – while the judges themselves are in fancy dress.

Be that as it may, Hacker continued in the cringing self-pitying lachrymose manner that he only exhibited when completely sloshed.