The Complete Yes Minister

‘No, but the right finding will give him a few more Brownie points.’

Brownie points. This was a new concept to me. Humphrey explained that they all add up until you get the badge. This seems to make sense.

‘Right,’ I said decisively. ‘Sir Maurice it is.’ Thank God I find it so easy to take decisions.

‘Thank you, Brown Owl,’ smiled Humphrey, and left the room. He’s really quite a pleasant fellow when he gets his way, and perhaps his idea will get us out of the embarrassment of an independent enquiry actually revealing anything – whether it be something we didn’t know ourselves and should have known, or something we knew perfectly well and didn’t want others to know we had known.

Of course, I realise on reflection that there is a third, and more real, possibility – that an independent enquiry would reveal something that Humphrey knew and I didn’t know and that he didn’t want me to know and that I would look an idiot for not knowing.

Like what happened yesterday, in other words.

So perhaps it’s just as well to follow his advice, until the day dawns when I know some embarrassing information that he doesn’t.

March 17th

A long meeting with Bernard Woolley today.

First of all, he was concerned about the Cuban refugees. Naturally. I’m concerned about them too. There’s a whole row brewing in Parliament and the press about the government’s refusal to help them.

I tried to point out that it’s not my fault the Treasury won’t give us the cash.

I can’t beat the Treasury. No one can beat the Treasury.

I’ve decided to do nothing about the refugees because there’s nothing I can do. However, Bernard and I had a more fruitful and revealing conversation about the new St Edward’s Hospital that Roy had tipped me off about yesterday. It seemed at first as though Roy was misinformed.

‘You asked me to find out about that alleged empty hospital in North London,’ began Bernard.

I nodded.

‘Well, as I warned you, the driver’s network is not wholly reliable. Roy has got it wrong.’

I was very relieved. ‘How did you find out this good news?’ I asked.

‘Through the Private Secretaries’ network.’

This was impressive. Although the Private Secretaries’ network is sometimes a little slower than the drivers’ network, it is a great deal more reliable – in fact almost one hundred per cent accurate.

‘And?’

Bernard explained that at this hospital there are only 342 administrative staff. The other 170 are porters, cleaners, laundry workers, gardeners, cooks and so forth.

This seemed a perfectly reasonable figure. So I asked how many medical staff.

‘Oh, none of them,’ replied Bernard casually, as if that were perfectly obvious in any case.

I wasn’t sure I’d heard right. ‘None?’ I asked, cautiously.

‘None.’

I decided to clarify a thing or two. ‘We are talking about St Edward’s Hospital, aren’t we, Bernard?’

‘Oh yes,’ he answered cheerfully. ‘It’s brand-new, you see,’ he added as if that explained everything.

‘How new?’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘it was completed eight months ago, and fully staffed, but unfortunately there were government cutbacks at that time and there was, consequently, no money left for the medical services.’

My mind was slowly boggling. ‘A brand-new hospital,’ I repeated quietly, to make sure I had not misheard, ‘with five hundred administrative staff and no patients?’

I sat and thought quietly for a few moments.

Then Bernard said helpfully, ‘Well, there is one patient, actually, Minister?’

‘One?’ I said.

‘Yes – the Deputy Chief Administrator fell over a piece of scaffolding and broke his leg.’

I began to recover myself. ‘My God,’ I said. ‘What if I’d been asked about this in the House?’ Bernard looked sheepish. ‘Why didn’t I know? Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t know either.’

‘Why didn’t you know? Who did know? How come this hasn’t got out?’

Bernard explained that apparently one or two people at the DHSS knew. And they have told him that this is not unusual – in fact, there are several such hospitals dotted around the country.

It seems there is a standard method of preventing this kind of thing leaking out. ‘Apparently it has been contrived to keep it looking like a building-site, and so far no one has realised that the hospital is operational. You know, scaffolding and skips and things still there. The normal thing.’

I was speechless. ‘The normal thing?’ I gasped. [Apparently, not quite speechless –