I challenged Humphrey. ‘Would it really save that much?’
‘Directly, no,’ he said. ‘But as an example to the whole public service . . . incalculable!’
Then Frank came up with the decisive argument in favour of Humphrey’s plan. He pointed out that there would be lots of great publicity in it. He suggested the sort of newspaper headlines we’d be getting: THE MINISTER SHOWS THE WAY, or SLIMLINE GOVERNMENT, HACKER SETS EXAMPLE. We might even get a first-name headline: SAVE IT, SAYS JIM.
I gave Humphrey the okay to put the scheme into practice as soon as possible. I shall be interested to see how it works. At this moment, I have high hopes.
Sunday morning. I’m writing this at home, in the constituency.
Haven’t had time to make any entries in the diary for some days because this economy drive is creating a lot of extra work for me. However, I’m sure it’s all going to be worth it.
It was a dreadful journey home on Friday night. I got home in the middle of the night. Annie had gone to bed. Apparently she’d made supper for us, and it had spoiled.
I’d tried to get a taxi to get me from Whitehall to Euston, but there was a thunderstorm and no taxis were available. So I’d gone by tube, carrying three red boxes which are immensely heavy when filled, and I’d missed the train at Euston. So I got home very tired and wet.
I apologised for waking Annie, and told her about my troublesome journey.
‘What happened to the chauffeur-driven car?’ she asked anxiously.
‘I’ve got rid of it,’ I explained proudly. ‘I’ve also got rid of the chauffeur, all the grand office furniture, and the drinks cabinet, and half my private office staff.’
‘You’ve been sacked!’ she said. Annie often jumps to the most ridiculous alarmist conclusions. I explained that it was an economy drive and that I was setting an example of no frills, no luxuries and no privileges.
Annie couldn’t seem to understand. ‘You’re bloody mad!’ she exploded. ‘For twenty years as a backbencher you have complained that you had no facilities and no help. Now you’ve been given them, and you’re throwing them away.’
I tried to explain it, but she wouldn’t let me get a word in edgeways. ‘For twenty years you’ve wanted to be a success – why did you want it if it brings no greater comfort than failure?’
I explained that this move would give me much greater power in the end.
Annie was unimpressed. ‘And how will you travel when you’re Prime Minister? Hitch-hike?’
Why can’t she understand?
Great progress today with the economy drive.
The office work is getting a bit behind, with twelve fewer people in my Private Office. Bernard is working overtime, and so am I, but clearly we didn’t need all those people out there, reading my letters and writing my letters, and making appointments and answering phones, and drafting replies to questions and – basically – protecting me from the outside world. I don’t need all those people to shield me. I am the people’s representative, I should be available to one and all, shouldn’t I?
However, we have to avoid screw-ups like this morning, when I arrived an hour and a half late to open a conference. What made it even more unfortunate was that it was the Business Efficiency Conference!
And, because we’ve abolished the night shift for cleaners (a really useful economy, in my view), I had a cleaning lady in my office vacuuming. Bernard and I had to shout at the tops of our voices as we discussed the week’s diary. But I’m sure these little wrinkles can be ironed out.
Tomorrow I have a vital meeting with Mr Brough, Director of Manpower Planning for the North-East Region, on the subject of staff reductions. I’ve never met him, but Bernard tells me he’s eager to make cuts.
The biggest progress is in the media coverage I’m getting. A front-page story in the
SIR BERNARD WOOLLEY RECALLS:2
I remember Jim Hacker’s first economy drive only too well. I suspected, green though I still was, that Sir Humphrey Appleby had created a potentially disastrous situation.
It was impossible for me to run the Private Office single-handed, with just a couple of typists to help. Errors were bound to occur, and sooner or later there would be a calamity.
The calamity occurred sooner than even I expected. On 21 December, the day after Hacker had received some favourable publicity, Ron Watson arrived at the Department without an appointment. Watson was the General Secretary of the Civil Service Transport and Associated Government Workers.
He demanded to see the Minister at once, because of what he described as ‘disturbing’ rumours about cut- backs and redundancies affecting his members. The rumours were clearly generated by the numerous press stories of which Jim Hacker was so ludicrously proud.
I told Watson that nobody could see the Minister without an appointment, and left the Private Office to go to the Whips’ Office. I was even having to run errands myself, as we were so short-staffed. Had we been fully staffed, Watson would never even have got as far as Hacker’s Private Office without an appointment. I left a typist to arrange an appointment for Watson to see Hacker.
Apparently, after I left the room, Brough of Manpower Planning telephoned to say he had missed his train from Newcastle, and could not keep his appointment. Watson overheard, realised that Hacker was free at that moment, and walked straight into his office.
