The Complete Yes Minister

astounding revelations about wastage in our midst. I told Sir Humphrey that he would be pretty surprised by it all, and that the new facts seemed to be a frightening indictment of bureaucratic sloppiness and self-indulgence.

Sir Humphrey seemed very concerned and intrigued, and was eager to learn where there might be scope for dramatic economies.

Frank had prepared two files, one on Manpower and one on Buildings. I decided to look at Buildings first.

‘Chadwick House,’ I began. ‘West Audley Street.’

‘A huge building,’ said Frank, ‘with only a handful of people working there.’

Sir Humphrey said he happened to know about Chadwick House. ‘It is certainly underused at the moment, but it is the designated office for the new Commission on the Environment. We’re actually wondering if it’ll be big enough when all the staff move in.’

This seemed fair enough. So I went on to Ladysmith Buildings, Walthamstow. It is totally empty.

‘Of course,’ said Sir Humphrey.

I asked him what he meant.

‘Security, Minister, I can say no more.’

‘Do you mean M16?’ I asked.

Sir Humphrey shook his head, and said nothing. So I asked him what he did mean.

‘We do not admit that M16 exists,’ he replied.

I’ve never heard anything so daft. I pointed out that absolutely everyone knows that it exists.

‘Nevertheless, we do not admit it. Not everyone around this table has been vetted.’

Vetted is such a silly expression. I remarked that it sounds like something you do to cats.

‘Yes, but not ferrets, Minister,’ said Sir Humphrey sharply, eyeing Frank. ‘Ladysmith Buildings is top secret.’

‘How,’ I asked sarcastically, ‘can a seven-storey building in Walthamstow be a secret?’

‘Where there’s a will there’s a way,’ replied Humphrey, with (I think) a twinkle in his eye. It was all quite amicable, but I could see that he had no intention of discussing anything that was remotely to do with security while Frank was present. I had no intention of asking Frank to leave, so, reluctantly, I was forced to move on to the next two white elephants.

‘Wellington House, Hyde Park Road. Estimated value, seven and a half million pounds. Westminster Old Hall, Sackville Square, estimated value, eleven million pounds. Both buildings with a tiny staff, and entirely full of filing cabinets.’

‘May I ask the source of these valuations?’ Sir Humphrey enquired.

‘Going rate for office property in the area,’ said Frank.

‘Ah. Unfortunately,’ said Sir Humphrey in his most helpful tone, ‘neither building would actually fetch the going rate.’

I asked why not.

‘Wellington House has no fire escape or fire doors and the fabric of the building would not stand the alteration, so it can’t be sold as offices.’

‘Then how can we use it?’ enquired Frank aggressively.

‘Government buildings do not need fire safety clearance.’

‘Why?’ demanded Frank.

‘Perhaps,’ Humphrey offered, ‘because Her Majesty’s Civil Servants are not easily inflamed.’ This time he chuckled. Another of his little jokes. He seemed to be increasingly pleased with himself. I don’t care for this.

[In fact, government buildings have to comply with most statutory fire requirements, but not with regard to means of escape! – Ed.]

We were not getting very far with our economies, so I asked why Westminster Old Hall couldn’t be sold as offices.

‘It’s a Class One listed building. Can’t change current user designation. The Environment, you know.’

We were getting nowhere fast. Frank moved on, and suggested we sold 3 to 17 Beaconsfield Street.

‘That,’ said Sir Humphrey, ‘has a three-level reinforced-concrete basement.’

‘So?’ I said.

‘It is there in case,’ said Sir Humphrey. I waited for him to complete his sentence, but after a while it became apparent that he thought he had already done so.

‘In case?’ I asked eventually.

‘You know, Minister,’ he said, his voice pregnant with hidden meaning. ‘Emergency Government Headquarters, if and when.’

I was baffled. ‘If and when what?’

Humphrey was now at his most enigmatic. ‘If and when . . . you know what,’ he replied so quietly that I could hardly hear him.