The Complete Yes Minister

Therefore the approach had to be through the political side. I needed someone close to the PM, someone who was able to frighten Hacker.

Suddenly it was clear. There’s only one figure whose job it is to put the frighteners on MPs – the Chief Whip.

I planned my strategy carefully. Hacker had asked me to phone the diary secretary in the PM’s private office for him, to make an appointment. I worked out that if Sir Humphrey had a word with the Cabinet Secretary, he (the Cabinet Secretary) could have a word with the PM’s diary secretary, then all of them could have a word with the Whip’s office.

The Chief Whip would see the point at once. When Hacker arrived to see the PM the Chief Whip would meet him, and say that the PM was rather busy and had asked him to talk to Hacker instead.

I requested a meeting with Appleby, and told him of my plan. He nodded approvingly. So I lifted up his phone.

‘What are you doing, Bernard?’ he asked.

‘I thought you wanted to talk to the Cabinet Secretary, Sir Humphrey,’ I replied with mock innocence.

He took the phone from me, and made the call. I sat and listened. When it was done Appleby replaced the receiver, sat back in his chair and eyed me speculatively.

‘Tell me, Bernard, do you – as his Private Secretary – feel obliged to tell the Minister of this conversation?’

‘What conversation?’ I replied.

He offered me a sherry, congratulated me, and told me that I would be a moral vacuum yet.

I believe that it was at this moment that my future was assured. From then on I was earmarked as a future head of the Home Civil Service.

[Hacker’s diary continues – Ed.]

September 8th

I feel rather guilty and not a little stupid this evening. Also, somewhat concerned for my future. I just hope that Vic Gould [the Chief Whip – Ed.] presents me in a favourable light to the PM next time my name is put forward for anything.

I think that Vic owes me a big favour after today. But he’s a strange fellow and he may not see it that way.

I wasn’t expecting to see him at all. My appointment was with the PM, at the House. When I got to the PM’s office I found Vic Gould waiting there.

Vic is a tall imposing figure, with the white hair of an elder statesman, a face like a vulture and a manner that shifts at lightning speed from charm and soft soap to vulgar abuse. A party man to his fingertips.

He was a bit casual, I thought. He said that the PM was rather busy today and had asked him to see me instead.

I felt slightly insulted. I don’t report to Vic. He may be responsible for party discipline but he’s one of my colleagues, an equal member of this government. Actually, I had no idea that he was so close to the PM. Or maybe he isn’t – maybe it’s just that he persuaded the PM (who didn’t know why I wanted the appointment) that it was a party matter rather than a political one. But what I can’t work out is how did Vic know what I wanted? And how did the PM arrive at the decision that Vic should see me instead? Sometimes I really do feel a little paranoid.

As it turned out perhaps it’s all for the best, if Vic can be believed. But can he? Can anybody?

Anyway, when Vic greeted me I refused to tell him what I’d come about. I couldn’t see that arms sales to Italian terrorists was a matter for the Chief Whip.

He refused to take no for an answer. ‘The PM has asked me to have a preliminary conversation with you, and write a background note. Save time later.’

I couldn’t argue with that. So I told Vic that I’d been given this pretty dramatic information. And I told him the whole story of Italian Red Terrorists being supplied with top-secret bomb detonators made in this country. In a government factory!

‘And you feel you should tell the PM?’

I was astonished by the question. The PM is in charge of security. I could see no choice.

But Vic disagreed. ‘I don’t think it’s something to burden the PM with. Let’s hold it over, shall we?’

I asked if he actually meant to do nothing about it. He nodded, and said yes, that was his recommendation.

I refused to accept this, and insisted that the PM had to be told.

‘If the PM were to be told,’ said Vic carefully, ‘there’d have to be an enquiry.’

That was my point. That was what I wanted.

But it was not what Vic wanted. He explained why. ‘An enquiry might perhaps reveal that all sorts of undesirable and even hostile governments had been supplied with British-made arms.’

This remark shocked me. Not so much on account of its factual content, but because of the assumption that such matters should not be looked into.

‘Are you serious?’ I asked.

‘I said perhaps. Which would – perhaps – be highly embarrassing to some of our Cabinet colleagues. Foreign Secretary, Defence Secretary, Trade Secretary. And to the PM personally.’