The Complete Yes Minister

His reply went rather as follows: ‘Minister, in the first place, we’ve agreed that the question is not cricket. In the second place, if there had been investigations, which there haven’t or not necessarily, or I am not at liberty to say if there have, there would have been a project team which, had it existed, on which I cannot comment, would now be disbanded if it had existed and the members returned to their original departments, had there indeed been any such members.’ Or words to that effect.

I waited till the torrent of useless language came to a halt, and then I delivered my ultimatum. I told him that I wanted safeguards on the use of the Data Base made available immediately. He told me it isn’t possible. I told him it is. He told me it isn’t. I told him it is. We went on like that (’tis, ’tisn’t, ’tis, ’tisn’t) like a couple of three-year-olds, glowering at each other, till Bernard popped in.

I didn’t want to reveal that Tom had told me of the safeguards that were ready and waiting, because then I’d have no more aces up my sleeve.

While I contemplated this knotty problem, Bernard reminded me of my engagements: Cabinet at 10, a speech to the Anglo-American Society lunch, and the World in Focus interview this evening. I asked him if he could get me out of the lunch. ‘Not really, Minister,’ he answered, ‘it’s been announced. It’s in the programme.’

And suddenly the penny dropped. The most wonderful plan formed in my mind, the idea of the century!

I told Humphrey and Bernard to be sure to watch me on TV tonight.

[The transcript of Hacker’s appearance that night on World in Focus follows. It contains his first truly memorable victory over his officials — Ed.]

SIR BERNARD WOOLLEY RECALLS:[8]

Jim Hacker always gave me the credit for this brilliant ploy, because of the unintentional double meaning of my remark, ‘it’s been announced, it’s in the programme’.

However, I personally believe that Hacker was inspired by Edward Heath’s famous manoeuvre when he was Prime Minister and wanted — in the teeth of Civil Service opposition — to announce a new £1 °Christmas bonus for the Old Age Pensioners. After many weeks of obstruction within Number Ten he simply appeared on Panorama and announced it as a fait accompli. It happened. It happened late, but it happened.

I well remember that Humphrey Appleby’s face was a picture when Jim made his statement — especially at the moment when he said that his Permanent Secretary had staked his reputation on it.

He turned to me and said: ‘It can’t be done.’ I made no reply.

Then he said to me: ‘Well Bernard, what do you make of the Minister’s performance?’

I was obliged to say that, in my opinion, it was checkmate.

January 15th

Today was my happiest day since I became a Minister.

‘Did you see me on the box last night?’ I asked Humphrey cheerfully as he gloomed into the office looking like Mr Sowerberry at a funeral.

‘Of course,’ he replied, tight-lipped.

Actually, it didn’t matter whether he’d seen me or not, because my TV appearance was completely reported in this morning’s press.

‘How was I?’ I asked innocently. ‘Good?’

‘A most remarkable performance, Minister, if I may say so,’ he answered with studied ambiguity.

‘You may, you may,’ I said, affecting not to notice it.

‘Minister, we have been working very hard all night, and I’m happy to be able to inform you that we have come up with some draft proposals that would enable you to achieve your desired objectives by the stated dates.’

In other words, he spent five minutes digging out from the files the proposals agreed last year when Tom was Minister.

‘Well done, Humphrey,’ I said ingenuously. ‘You see, I told the nation how splendid you are and I was right. I had every confidence in you.’

‘Quite so, Minister,’ he said through clenched teeth.

He got out a folder containing his proposals.

‘Are those your proposals?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Here are mine,’ I said, and produced a folder too.

‘You have proposals too?’ He was surprised.

I told Humphrey to read his proposed safeguards. Then I would read mine. And we would see how they compared.

Humphrey started reading. ‘One — Personal Data –1 A. Safeguards must be applied with reference to…’

I could resist it no longer. Reading from my folder, I joined in, and together, in unison, we read: ‘… two criteria — the need to know and the right to know. 1.A(i) the need to know. Only those officials for whom the information was submitted may be deemed, prima facie, to have a need to know.’

We looked at each other.

‘We seem to be of the same mind,’ I remarked.

‘Where did those proposals come from?’ he demanded. I said nothing. After a few moments he repeated, ‘Where did those proposals come from?’

‘Humphrey,’ I replied in a tone of slight reproof, ‘my lips are sealed.’

5 The Writing on the Wall

January 18th