The Complete Yes Minister

He took a large gulp of his whisky, put down his glass firmly on the coffee table, and fixed me with a bloodshot stare. ‘Who is in charge of selling British weapons to foreigners?’

‘Bzzzzz. Hacker, LSE,’ said Annie. I silenced her with a filthy look. Then I waited for more from Saunders. After all, he’d requested the meeting because he’d had something to tell me, not to ask me.

Saunders realised the ball was still in his court. ‘You wrote an article in Reform about the sale of British weapons to undesirable foreign buyers.’

I remembered it well. I had called it ‘The Dreadful Trade’. In it I argued — as I have always argued — that while it is wholly patriotic to manufacture arms for our defence and even for the defence of our allies, even though some of our allies are scarcely commendable people, we should never sell British weapons to buttress enemies of the realm or Nazi-style dictators. I repeated the gist of my argument to Saunders. He nodded. ‘What about terrorists?’ he asked.

‘Or terrorists,’ I added firmly.

He nodded again. I began to have the feeling that I was being led somewhere, as if by a good interrogator or a prosecuting counsel. But I still had no idea of the enormity of the shock that he had in store for me.

‘As you know,’ he began to explain, ‘I recently returned from Rome.’ He had told me on the phone that he’d been there as part of a NATO military delegation. ‘While I was there I was shown something that they’d captured in a raid on a terrorist HQ. It was a computerised bomb detonator. Very new, very secret and very lethal.’

‘Who showed it to you?’ I asked.

‘I can’t possibly tell you. An absolute confidence.’

I was mildly interested in this computerised detonator thing and invited him to continue.

‘You set it to calculate the weight of the victim, the speed of his car and so on, to be sure of getting him. And you can reprogramme it remotely by radio after setting it.’

‘Gosh,’ I said, walking straight into it. ‘You don’t connect the Italians with that sort of technology, do you?’

‘It wasn’t made in Italy,’ he countered swiftly. ‘It was made here.’

It took me a moment or two to grasp the full implications of what he was saying.

‘Here?’

‘Yes. Under a Ministry of Defence contract.’

I could hardly believe what he was telling me. As a matter of fact, I still find it incredible. And appalling. British weapons being used by Italian Red Terrorists.

I asked him how they got them.

‘That’s what I want to know,’ he answered.

I asked him who else he’d told. He says he’s told no one, because he can’t. ‘If I reported it officially I’d have to disclose the source. But I thought if I told someone near the top of government…’

‘At the top,’ I corrected him firmly.

He paused and nodded. Then he went on to explain that someone at the top of government would be able, in his opinion, to find out how these weapons are being supplied. Because the investigation would have to start here in Britain, and at top level.

I couldn’t see how he thought I was to do this, since he had made it clear that he was telling me on a personal basis.

He spelt it out to me. ‘You see, now you know personally, even if you don’t know officially, you can use your personal knowledge to start official enquiries to get official confirmation of personal suspicions so that what you now know personally but not officially you will then know officially as well as personally.’

After a year in government I can now make sense of, and recall such sentences. Perhaps in another year I’ll be speaking like that myself.

‘You’re not related to Sir Humphrey Appleby, are you?’ I enquired semi-humorously. But no. This is not a family talent, this is the language of the governing classes as they try — as always — to have everything both ways.

Saunders heaved a sigh of relief, finished the rest of his Scotch, and remarked that he had just had to tell somebody.

‘Absolutely,’ I agreed, at my most understanding. ‘Well, now I know. Personally.’ Two could play this game.

‘Marvellous. Going to do something about it, aren’t you?’

‘Indeed I am,’ I agreed emphatically. ‘Oh yes. Definitely.’

‘And right away?’

‘Right away.’ I was employing my most decisive manner.

‘What are you going to do?’

I hadn’t actually expected such a direct question. I couldn’t see what that had to do with him. He’d done his duty by informing me, it’s not for serving army officers to question Ministers of the Crown. Anyway that’s the sort of irritating question that you tend to get from backbench MPs and other awkward busybodies who keep wanting to find out what the government’s doing.

However, both he and Annie were sitting waiting for an answer. I had to say something. ‘Well, I’m going to think about what you’ve told me.’ They didn’t look too impressed. ‘Right away!’ I added decisively.

‘And then?’ Persistent bugger.

‘And then I’m going to consider various courses of action, without delay.’

He insisted on seeking clarification. Or trying to pin me down. ‘You’re going to take action without delay?’