The Complete Yes Minister

‘And you know mine,’ I said. I smiled at Sir Humphrey. ‘Everyone has his price, haven’t they?’

Sir Humphrey looked inscrutable again. Perhaps this is why they are called mandarins.

‘Yes Minister,’ he replied.

¹ K means Knighthood. KCB is Knight Commander of the Bath. G means Grand Cross. GCB is Knight Grand Cross of the Bath.

² FROLINAT was the National Liberation Front of Chad, a French acronym. FRETELIN was the Trust For the Liberation of Timor, a small Portuguese colony seized by Indonesia: a Portuguese acronym. ZIPRA was the Zimbabwe People’s Revolutionary Army, ZANLA the Zimbabwe African Liberation Army, ZAPU the Zimbabwe African People’s Union, ZANU the Zimbabwe African National Union, CARECOM is the acronym for the Caribbean Common Market and COREPER the Committee of Permanent Representatives to the European Community – a French acronym, pronounced co-ray-pair. ECOSOC was the Economic and Social Council of the UN, UNIDO the United Nations Industrial Development Organisation, IBRD the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development and OECD was the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. GRAPO could not conceivably have been relevant to the conversation, as it is the Spanish acronym for the First of October Anti-Fascist Revolutionary Group.

It is not impossible that Sir Humphrey may have been trying to confuse his Minister.

³ Hacker might perhaps have been thinking of the Polish shipbuilding deal during the Callaghan government, by which the UK lent money interest free to the Poles, so that they could buy oil tankers from us with our money, tankers which were then going to compete against our own shipping industry. These tankers were to be built on Tyneside, a Labour-held marginal with high unemployment. It could have been said that the Labour government was using public money to buy Labour votes, but no one did – perhaps because, like germ warfare, no one wants to risk using an uncontrollable weapon that may in due course be used against oneself.

3

The Economy Drive

December 7th

On the train going up to town after a most unrestful weekend in the constituency, I opened up the Daily Mail. There was a huge article making a personal attack on me.

I looked around the train. Normally the first-class compartment is full of people reading The Times, the Telegraph, or the Financial Times. Today they all seemed to be reading the Daily Mail.

When I got to the office Bernard offered me the paper and asked me if I’d read it. I told him I’d read it. Bernard told me that Frank had read it, and wanted to see me. Then Frank came in and asked me if I’d read it. I told him I’d read it.

Frank then read it to me. I don’t know why he read it to me. I told him I’d read it. It seemed to make him feel better to read it aloud. It made me feel worse.

I wondered how many copies they sell every day. ‘Two million, three million?’ I asked Bernard.

‘Oh no, Minister,’ he answered as if my suggested figures were an utterly outrageous overestimate.

I pressed him for an answer. ‘Well, how many?’

‘Um . . . four million,’ he said with some reluctance. ‘So only . . . twelve million people have read it. Twelve or fifteen. And lots of their readers can’t read, you know.’

Frank was meanwhile being thoroughly irritating. He kept saying, ‘Have you read this?’ and reading another appalling bit out of it. For instance: ‘Do you realise that more people serve in the Inland Revenue than the Royal Navy?’ This came as news to me, but Bernard nodded to confirm the truth of it when I looked at him.

‘“Perhaps,”’ said Frank, still reading aloud from that bloody paper, ‘“Perhaps the government thinks that a tax is the best form of defence.”’

Bernard sniggered, till he saw that I was not amused. He tried to change his snigger into a cough.

Frank then informed me, as if I didn’t already know, that this article is politically very damaging, and that I had to make slimming down the Civil Service a priority. There’s no doubt that he’s right, but it’s just not that easy.

I pointed this out to Frank. ‘You know what?’ he said angrily. ‘You’re house-trained already.’

I didn’t deign to reply. Besides, I couldn’t think of an answer.

[The Civil Service phrase for making a new Minister see things their way is ‘house-training’. When a Minister is so house-trained that he automatically sees everything from the Civil Service point of view, this is known in Westminster as the Minister having ‘gone native’ – Ed.]

Sir Humphrey came in, brandishing a copy of the Daily Mail. ‘Have you read this?’ he began.

This was too much. I exploded. ‘Yes. Yes! Yes!!! I have read that sodding newspaper. I have read it, you have read it, we have all bloody read it. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?’

‘Abundantly, Minister,’ said Sir Humphrey coldly, after a brief pained silence.

I recovered my temper, and invited them all to sit down. ‘Humphrey,’ I said, ‘we simply have to slim down the Civil Service. How many people are there in this Department?’

‘This Department?’ He seemed evasive. ‘Oh well, we’re very small.’

‘How small?’ I asked, and receiving no reply, I decided to hazard a guess. ‘Two thousand? . . . three thousand?’ I suggested, fearing the worst.

‘About twenty-three thousand I think, Minister?’