The Complete Yes Minister

Humphrey, as always, sprang to the defence of the bureaucrats. ‘I beg to differ, Minister,’ he said reproachfully. ‘Brussels is full of hard-working public servants who have to endure a lot of exhausting travel and tedious entertainment.’

Terribly tedious, I thought to myself, working through all that smoked salmon and forcing down all that champagne.

‘And in any case, Minister,’ continued Humphrey, ‘you’re blaming the wrong people.’

What was he talking about? I’d lost track.

‘I understand,’ he went on, ‘that it was one of your Cabinet colleagues who gave Brussels early warning of your plan for the bulk-buying of word-processors, which is why they have brought this directive out so quickly.’

No wonder I’d lost track. He’d gone back to the point of our conversation. He really is a confusing man to talk to.

And that was it, was it? Betrayed again! By a Cabinet colleague!

[Who else? – Ed.] No prizes for guessing who it was – Basil Corbett! Bloody Basil Corbett! When I think about Basil Corbett I really warm to Judas Iscariot. [Basil Corbett was another tall, patrician, lisping politician with staring eyes, usually seen smoking a pipe so that people would feel he was ‘sound’ – Ed.]

‘Corbett?’ I asked, though I knew.

Humphrey inclined his head slightly, to indicate that it was indeed the Secretary of State for Trade and Industry who had put the boot in.

I couldn’t contain my anger. ‘He’s a treacherous, disloyal, arrogant, opinionated, publicity-seeking creep.’ Humphrey gazed at me and said nothing. I mistook his attitude. ‘I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, Humphrey,’ I added.

‘On the contrary, Minister,’ replied Humphrey, ‘compared with what his Permanent Secretary says, that ranks as a generous tribute.’

I wonder why Corbett did this to me – ah well, time will tell, no doubt.

July 2nd

I didn’t have to wait long for the answer. Today’s Standard contained significant and potentially worrying news.

Basil Corbett again. Every time that man comes anywhere near me I get a sharp stabbing pain in the back.

And how come I didn’t know about this impending reshuffle? How did they know? I asked Humphrey if it was true.

He was evasive, of course. ‘Minister, I am only a humble civil servant. I do not move in such exalted circles as Cabinet Ministers and journalists.’

I persisted. ‘Is this rumour true?’

‘Yes.’

A straight answer! I was somewhat taken aback. ‘How do you know,’ I asked, ‘if you don’t move in such exalted circles?’

‘I mean,’ he explained, ‘it is true that it is rumoured.’

I was worried and anxious. I still am. A reshuffle. This is full of all sorts of implications. I have hardly started on all the things that I planned to do when I got the DAA.

I started to explain this to Humphrey, who pointed out that I may not be moved in a reshuffle. I think he meant to be reassuring, but perhaps he was trying to tell me that my career is not moving forward – which it ought to be.

I asked him if that’s what he meant. Again he was evasive. ‘At least it wouldn’t be moving backwards,’ he said.

Backwards? I’d never even considered moving backwards! Perhaps he wasn’t being evasive after all.

‘Look,’ I ventured cautiously. ‘Tell me. I mean, I’m doing all right, aren’t I?’

‘Yes indeed, Minister,’ he replied smoothly. ‘You’re doing all right.’

I couldn’t quarrel with his words – well, my words, really! – but there seemed to be an air of doubt in his delivery of them.

So I turned to Bernard and said, more positively: ‘We’re doing all right, aren’t we Bernard?’

‘Yes Minister.’

That was all. No other words of encouragement seemed to be forthcoming.

I felt I had to justify myself. God knows why! ‘Yes’ I said. ‘Yes. I mean, perhaps I’m not the outstanding success of the government, but I’m not a failure, am I?’

‘No Minister,’ said Bernard, a shade dutifully, I thought. I waited. I was damned if I was going to ask for any compliments. Eventually Bernard said, ‘Um – you’re doing . . . all right.’

But did he mean it?

And if so, what did he mean?