The Complete Yes Minister

days, between Sir Frank Gordon, Second Permanent Secretary at the Treasury, and Sir Humphrey Appleby, see below – Ed.]

A note from Sir Frank Gordon, Second Permanent Secretary of the Treasury:

A reply from Sir Humphrey Appleby:

A reply from Sir Frank:

A reply from Sir Humphrey:

A reply from Sir Frank:

A reply from Sir Humphrey:

We also discovered a brief note to Sir Desmond Glazebrook, addressed to his home at Cadogan Square:

[Hacker’s diary continues – Ed.]

September 20th

For some reason they didn’t run the story of my visit to the City Farm in the Standard last week.

But today I got a double-page spread. Wonderful. One photo of me with a duck, another with a small multiracial girl. Great publicity for me, and the Department.

I was busy discussing the possibilities of visiting other City Farms – in Birmingham, Manchester, Glasgow, Newcastle. Preferably in the Special Development Areas. [The new euphemism for marginal constituencies – Ed.]

This happy conversation was rudely interrupted by Bernard announcing that the wretched Mrs Phillips was outside in the Private Office, demanding to see me.

I couldn’t see why. Then Bernard told me that it was announced this morning that the City Farm is being closed. This was a bombshell.

‘The lease runs out at the end of the year and it’s being turned into a car park,’ Bernard told me. ‘For Inland Revenue Inspectors.’

Bill and I both knew what the headlines would be. CHILDREN AND ANIMALS EVICTED BY TAXMEN. HACKER RENEGES ON TV PLEDGE. That sort of thing.

I told Bernard that it simply couldn’t be allowed to happen. ‘Which idiot authorised it?’ I asked.

He stared unhappily at his shoes. ‘I’m afraid, er, you did, Minister.’

It seems that the administrative order that I signed a couple of days ago, which Humphrey said was so urgent, gives government departments the power to take over local authority land. It’s known as Section 7, subsection 3 in Whitehall.

I sent for Humphrey. I told Bernard to get him at once, pointing out that this is about the worst disaster of the century.

There were two World Wars, Minister,’ said Bernard as he picked up the phone. I simply told him to shut up, I was in no mood for smartarse insubordination.

‘Fighting on the beaches is one thing,’ I snarled. ‘Evicting cuddly animals and small children to make room for tax inspectors’ cars is in a different league of awfulness.’

Humphrey arrived and started to congratulate me on my television appearance. What kind of a fool does he think I am? I brushed this nonsense aside and demanded an explanation.

‘Ah yes,’ he said smoothly. ‘The Treasury, acting under Section 7, subsection 3 of the Environmental . . .’

‘It’s got to be stopped,’ I interrupted brusquely.

He shook his head, and sighed. ‘Unfortunately, Minister, it is a Treasury decision and not within our jurisdiction.’

I said I’d revoke the order.

‘That, unfortunately,’ he replied, shaking his head gloomily, ‘is impossible. Or very difficult. Or highly inadvisable. Or would require legislation. One of those. But in any case it could not invalidate an action taken while the order was in force.’

As I contemplated this dubious explanation, Mrs Phillips burst in.

She was in full Wagnerian voice. ‘I don’t care if he’s talking to the Queen and the Pope,’ she shouted at some poor Executive Officer outside my door. She strode across the room towards me. ‘Judas,’ was her initial greeting.

‘Steady on,’ I replied firmly.