The Complete Yes Minister

‘How odd?’ he asked.

‘Well it’s not all that odd,’ I said, argumentatively, wilfully misunderstanding him. ‘We had a meeting yesterday, didn’t we?’

Sir Humphrey was now tired of the fencing.

‘Minister, may I have a word with you?’

‘Certainly,’ I said, ‘as soon as Richard and I have…’

He interrupted. ‘I mean now.’

Now it was my turn to embarrass him a little. ‘Okay. Go ahead.’ I knew he wouldn’t want to talk in front of one of his juniors.

‘Upstairs, Minister, in your office if you please.’

‘But I’m sure Richard doesn’t mind.’

‘Upstairs, Minister. I’m sure Dr Cartwright can spare you for a few moments.’

Cartwright missed the heavy sarcasm completely. ‘Oh yes,’ he said with an obliging smile.

Sir Humphrey opened the door. Having been made to feel like a naughty schoolboy, I marched out of Cartwright’s office.

I wonder how he knew I was in that office. I know Bernard wouldn’t have told him, so somebody must have seen me and reported it. I might as well be in the Soviet Union. Somehow I’ve got to get my freedom — but that involves winning the psychological war against Humphrey. And somehow, he always manages to make me feel guilty and unsure of myself.

If only I could find a chink in his armour. If I ever do, he’s had it!

Anyway, that tense little sparring match in Cartwright’s office wasn’t the end of the matter. A few minutes later, back in my office after an icy silent journey up in the lift and along the endless corridors, the row came to a head.

He told me that I cannot just go around talking to people in the Department, and expressed the sincere hope that such a thing would not occur again.

I could scarcely believe my ears. I ordered him to explain himself.

‘Minister, how can I advise you properly if I don’t know who’s saying what to whom? I must know what’s going on. You simply cannot have completely private meetings. And what if you’re told things that aren’t true?’

‘If they’re not true you can put me right.’

‘But they may be true.’

‘In that case…’ I began triumphantly. He interrupted me, correcting himself hastily.

‘That is, not entirely false. But misleading. Open to misinterpretation.’

I faced him with a straight question. ‘The fact is, you’re just trying to keep things from me, aren’t you, Humphrey?’

He was indignant. ‘Absolutely not, Minister. Records must be kept. You won’t be here forever, nor will we. In years to come it may be vital to know what you were told. If Cartwright were moved tomorrow, how could we check on your information?’

On the face of it, that was a specious argument. ‘Cartwright isn’t being moved tomorrow,’ I said.

‘Oh, isn’t he?’ came the insolent response.

Bernard interrupted us. Alex Andrews of The Mail wanted to do an interview with me for tomorrow. I agreed of course. I told Bernard to stay with us and minute our conversation. Humphrey had given me his views on my private meeting with Cartwright. Now he was going to hear mine.

I began by repeating what Cartwright had told me: namely, that in his opinion — and the opinion of everyone who knows anything about local government — the South-West Derbyshire County Council is the most efficient in the country.

‘Inefficient, I think he means, Minister.’

‘Efficient, Humphrey. Effective. Economical. They’re just not particularly interested in sending pieces of blue paper to Whitehall.’

Humphrey then explained something that I hadn’t quite grasped yet. Apparently they have to return those sodding blue forms, it’s a statutory requirement.

And we know why. We know who decreed that it should be so.

Even so, statutory requirements can be overlooked occasionally. Discretion can be exercised. So I asked Humphrey what happens if they don’t send in their blue forms. South-West Derbyshire carries on, rather well apparently.

‘But,’ said Humphrey, not seeing at all what I was getting at, ‘if they don’t send us the information and plans and requests for permission, well, what are we here for?’

An excellent question, as I told him immediately. I asked it at once. ‘What are we here for?’

‘To collate the information, inspect the plans, and grant or withhold permission.’

‘And if we didn’t?’ I asked.

He gazed at me studiously. I might have been talking Ancient Chinese, for all the sense I was making to him.

‘I’m sorry, Minister, I don’t understand.’

I persevered. ‘If we didn’t. If we weren’t here and we didn’t do it — then what?’

‘I’m sorry, Minister, you’ve lost me.’

Yet again, Humphrey demonstrates that his trouble is that he is concerned with means and not ends.