‘No,’ said Bernard patiently. ‘I think the Minister means, what function do you perform in this Department.’
‘Don’t you
‘Yes,
‘Ah,’ said Dr Cartwright. We’d got there at last. No one would believe that this is how busy people in the corridors of power communicate with each other.
‘I’m a professional economist,’ he explained. ‘Director of Local Administrative Statistics.’
‘So you were in charge of the Local Government Directorate until we took it over?’
He smiled at my question. ‘Dear me, no.’ He shook his head sadly, though apparently without bitterness. ‘No, I’m just Under-Secretary rank. Sir Gordon Reid was the Permanent Secretary. I fear that I will rise no higher.’
I asked why not.
He smiled. ‘Alas! I am an expert.’
[
‘An expert on what?’
‘The whole thing,’ he said modestly. Then he handed me a file.
I’m sitting here reading the file right now. It’s dynamite. It’s a scheme for controlling local authority expenditure. He proposes that every council official responsible for a new project would have to list the criteria for failure before he’s given the go-ahead.
I didn’t grasp the implication of this at first. But I’ve discussed it with Annie and she tells me it’s what’s called ‘the scientific method’. I’ve never really come across that, since my early training was in sociology and economics. But ‘the scientific method’ apparently means that you first establish a method of measuring the success or failure of an experiment. A proposal would have to say: ‘The scheme will be a failure if it takes longer than this’ or ‘costs more than that’ or ‘employs more staff than these’ or ‘fails to meet those pre-set performance standards’.
Fantastic. We’ll get going on this right away. The only thing is, I can’t understand why this hasn’t been done before.
The first thing I did this morning was get Dr Cartwright on the phone, and ask him.
He didn’t know the answer. ‘I can’t understand it either. I put the idea up several times and it was always welcomed very warmly. But Sir Gordon always seemed to have something more urgent on when we were due to discuss it.’
I told him he’d come to the right place this time and rang off.
Then Bernard popped in. He was looking rather anxious. Obviously he’d been listening-in on his extension and taking notes. [
‘That’s marvellous, isn’t it Bernard?’ I asked.
There was a pointed silence.
‘You’ve read the report, have you? Cartwright’s report?’
‘Yes, Minister.’
‘Well, what do you think of it?’
‘Oh, it’s er, that is, er it’s very well presented, Minister.’
The message was clear.
‘Humphrey will be fascinated, don’t you think?’ I said mischievously.
Bernard cleared his throat. ‘Well, I’ve arranged a meeting with him about this for tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll give you his views.’
‘What are you saying, Bernard? Out with it.’
‘Yes, well, as I say,’ he waffled for a bit, ‘um . . . I think that he’ll think that it’s er, beautifully . . . typed.’
And then surprisingly he smiled from ear to ear.
Today I had the meeting with Sir Humphrey. It was supposed to be about our new responsibilities in the area of local government. But I saw to it that it was about Cartwright’s scheme.
It began with the usual confusion between us.
‘Local authorities,’ I began. ‘What are we going to do about them?’
‘Well, there are three principal areas for action: budget, accommodation and staffing.’
I congratulated him for putting his finger right on it. ‘Well done, Humphrey. That’s where all the trouble is.’
He was nonplussed. ‘Trouble?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘with all those frightful councils. Budget, accommodation and staffing. They all go up and up and up.’
‘No, Minister.’ He had assumed his patronising tone again. ‘I’m afraid you misunderstand. I’m referring to this
