The Complete Yes Minister

‘CBE, Minister,’ he replied, unhappily.

I wasn’t sure what he meant. Could I have been awarded the CBE? — or could he?

He explained. ‘Can’t Be Everywhere’. Another idiotic Civil Service abbreviation. ‘In normal circumstances…’ he petered out. After all, we both knew how this tragedy had occurred.

Bernard reminded me of all my appointments for today. An office Christmas party, some meetings — nothing of any consequence. I spent the day dodging the press. I wanted to discuss the situation with Sir Humphrey, but apparently he was unavailable all day.

Annie and I were invited to the French Embassy’s Christmas party, at 8 p.m. I asked Bernard to get me my car — and then realised, as I spoke, that there were no drivers. I told him to call Annie, to get her to bring our car in to collect me.

Bernard had already thought of that, but apparently our car had been giving trouble all day and Annie wanted to take it to the garage. I got hold of her and told her the garage would wait — the car would get us from Whitehall to Kensington okay.

Annie came for me, we set off in our evening clothes.

Yet again I was wrong and the bloody car broke down in Knightsbridge. In the rush hour. In the pouring rain. I tried to fix it. I was wearing my dinner jacket. I asked Annie for the umbrella, she said I had it. I knew she had it. We shouted at each other, she got out and slammed her door and walked away, and I was left with the car blocking all of Harrods’ Christmas rush hour traffic with horns blaring and drivers yelling abuse at me.

I got to the French Embassy an hour and a half late, soaked to the skin and covered in oil. I had three or four glasses of champagne right away — well, who wouldn’t in the circumstances? I needed them!

When I left, not drunk exactly, but a bit the worse for wear, I must admit, I dropped my keys in the gutter beside the car. Then they fell down a grating, so I had to lie down to try and reach them, and some bastard from the press was there.

This morning I had a frightful hangover. I felt tired and sick. The press had really gone to town over my alleged drunkenness. They really are unbelievably irresponsible nowadays.

Another paper’s headline was HACKER TIRED AND EMOTIONAL AFTER EMBASSY RECEPTION.

Sir Humphrey read it aloud, and remarked that it was slightly better, perhaps, than the first.

‘Better?’ I asked.

‘Well… different, anyway,’ said Sir Humphrey.

I asked if anyone had said anything beyond ‘tired and emotional’. Bernard informed me that William Hickey said I was ‘overwrought’. I didn’t mind that quite so much, until Sir Humphrey added — for clarification — ‘overwrought as a newt, actually’.

By now I felt that it could not get any worse. But I was wrong. Bernard produced today’s lead story from the Daily Telegraph, which, astonishingly and horrifyingly, claimed that I was recruiting extra staff to the DAA.

I demanded an explanation from Sir Humphrey. And he had one ready, of course.

‘Minister, you asked for these extra people. You demanded a complete study, a survey, facts and figures. These measures cannot be taken by non-people. If you create more work, more people have to be employed to do it. It’s common sense.’

While I was taking this on the chin, he came in with another right hook to the head. ‘And if you persist with your Bureaucratic Watchdog Office, there’ll be at least another four hundred new jobs there as well.’

I was shattered. My head was aching, I felt sick, my career seemed to be in ruins, I was being pilloried in the press and the only idea of mine that I’ve managed to push through since I’ve been here had now to be abandoned.

Yet, throughout, from my first day here, all the permanent officials appear to have been doing their best to help me in every possible way. So are they completely inept? Or am I? Are they pretending to help while secretly obstructing my every move? Or are they incapable of understanding a new approach to the Department’s work? Do they try to help me by pushing me towards the Ministry’s policy? Is there a difference between the Minister’s policy and the Ministry’s policy? Why am I asking so many questions to which there is no known answer? How deep is the ocean, how high is the sky? [Irving Berlin — Ed.]

There was silence in the office. I didn’t know what we were going to do about the four hundred new people supervising our economy drive or the four hundred new people for the Bureaucratic Watchdog Office, or anything! I simply sat and waited and hoped that my head would stop thumping and that some idea would be suggested by someone sometime soon.

Sir Humphrey obliged. ‘Minister… if we were to end the economy drive and close the Bureaucratic Watchdog Office we could issue an immediate press announcement that you had axed eight hundred jobs.’ He had obviously thought this out carefully in advance, for at this moment he produced a slim folder from under his arm. ‘If you’d like to approve this draft….’