Humphrey was full of praise. ‘A work of art, Minister. Now, Minister, you have to see the PM at Number Ten to be officially informed of your new responsibilities. And if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and dress.’
‘Another works’ outing?’
‘Indeed,’ he said, without any air of apology.
I realised that, as Minister responsible for the Arts, the Royal Opera House now came within my purview. And I’ve hardly ever been.
‘Um . . . can I come too?’ I asked tentatively.
‘Yes Minister,’ he replied with great warmth.
And we had a jolly good evening – good music, great singing, smart people and some delicious little smoked salmon sandwiches in the Crush Bar.
Maybe I was wrong. The middle classes are entitled to a few perks, aren’t they?
1 In conversation with the Editors.
2 As soon as possible.
21
The Skeleton in the Cupboard
An interesting situation emerged today from another meeting to which my old friend Dr Cartwright came.
It was a fairly dull routine meeting to start with, all about local government administration. As Humphrey predicted, our Department was increasing in size, staffing and budget. He is plainly in his element. So far, however, it hasn’t involved much in the way of policy decisions, which is where I come in.
We’d reached item seven on the agenda, and so far it had been pretty uneventful. The only interest had been in Bernard’s pedantic linguistic quibbles, about which he is becoming obsessional.
‘Item seven,’ I asked, ‘what’s it about?’
‘If I may just recapitulate,’ began Sir Humphrey.
Bernard made a little sign and caught my eye.
‘Yes Bernard?’
‘Um – one can’t actually recapitulate an item if one hasn’t started it yet,’ he volunteered.
Sir Humphrey, who doesn’t like to be corrected by
‘Thank you, Bernard, where would we be without you? Minister, may I just, recapitulating
I was thoroughly amused, and not paying full attention. ‘Doubtless,’ I interrupted cheerfully, and then realised that I didn’t know what he was talking about. After all, they give me mountains of paper to read virtually every day, I can’t remember everything.
‘Which minutes?’ I asked.
‘On the proposal to take disciplinary action against the South-West Derbyshire County Council.’
I still had no idea what the proposal was. But I didn’t like to admit it, it’s always better to make them think that one is completely on top of the job. So I casually asked Bernard to remind me.
The problem was that the council in question had failed to complete their statutory returns and supply us with the statistical information that the DAA requires.
I asked what we were going to do about it. Apparently a policy decision was required from me. Sir Humphrey offered me assorted alternatives. ‘A rebuke from the Minister, a press statement about their incompetence, withholding various grants and allowances, or, ultimately, as you are no doubt fully aware . . .’
‘Yes, yes,’ I interrupted helpfully.
‘Good,’ he said, and fell silent.
Again I was in a bit of a hole. I had no idea what he’d been about to say. But clearly he was waiting for my comments.
‘I’m fully aware of . . . what?’ I prompted him.
‘What?’
‘What am I fully aware of?’
‘I can’t think of anything.’ Then he realised what he’d said because he added hastily, ‘I mean, I can’t think what you are . . .’
‘You were saying,’ I explained, feeling somewhat embarrassed by now. (After all, seven assorted officials of various ages and ranks were silently watching my display of confusion and ineptitude.) ‘You were saying: “ultimately, as I’m fully aware” . . .’
‘Ah yes, Minister.’ Now he was on the ball again. ‘Ultimately, taking the local authority to court.’
I asked if a failure to complete returns is all that serious.
Eight officials looked shocked! I was told categorically that it is not merely serious, but catastrophic!
I wanted to know why. Sir Humphrey was quick to explain.
