The Complete Yes Minister

‘The snag?’ repeated Humphrey.

‘Yes,’ I repeated. ‘The snag. What is the snag?’

I knew there must be some snag.

‘I don’t think I quite follow what you mean, precisely?’ Humphrey was playing for time, I could tell.

I formulated my worries even as I voiced them. ‘Well . . . what I mean is, this Propanol stuff is an Italian product. So why don’t they produce it in Italy?’ Humphrey was silent. This was indeed suspicious. ‘Why are they making us such a generous present?’

‘There’s no snag about this, Minister,’ said Sir Humphrey. ‘It’s wonderful news.’

I could see that if it were wonderful news, it would indeed be wonderful news.

‘Yes,’ I agreed cautiously. ‘It is wonderful news. Wonderful news, isn’t it?’ I said to Bernard, who was taking the minutes on my right.

He flashed a glance at Humphrey, then replied warily, ‘Yes, wonderful news,’ but he didn’t sound at all carefree.

I knew I’d find out nothing more, just by asking in a generalised fashion about snags. So I thought hard, I tried to find the right question. Humphrey would never actually lie to me [Well, hardly ever – Ed.] and will give me the right answers if I can only think of the right questions.

‘Good old Propanol,’ I said playing for time. Then, quite suddenly, it came to me. ‘What is Propanol?’ I asked.

‘It’s rather interesting,’ said Humphrey promptly. ‘It used to be made with dioxin, until the Seveso explosion in Northern Italy. Then they had to stop making it. Now they’ve developed a safe compound called metadioxin, but of course the Italian factory is still sealed off. So they’ve asked the BCC to make it for them.’

‘Ah,’ the fog was beginning to lift. ‘An ill wind, eh?’

‘Quite so,’ he agreed contentedly.

‘But is this new stuff perfectly safe?’

‘Perfectly,’ he replied.

‘Good,’ I said. So I was no nearer. Or was I?

‘Humphrey, are you givng me a categorical and absolute assurance that this stuff is not only safe, but one hundred per cent safe?’

‘Yes, Minister.’

Okay, so what’s up? Why do I smell danger somewhere in all this unequivocally good news? ‘Have you anything else to add, Humphrey, which you might regret later if you don’t say it now?’

‘Well Minister, I suppose I should point out that some weak Ministers might have doubts, in view of the similarity of the names, but no one with any backbone would be deflected from such a beneficial project on such a flimsy pretext.’

So that’s all that it was. The similarity of the names. Humphrey was right. I told him so in the most forthright terms. ‘Absolutely! I know the sort of Minister you mean. Political jellyfish. Frightened of taking any decision that might upset someone. After all, every decision upsets someone. Government is about doing what’s right, not doing what’s popular. Eh, Humphrey?’

Humphrey was full of approval. ‘I couldn’t have expressed it better myself, Minister.’ Conceited bugger. ‘I’ll tell Sir Wally to go ahead.’

This sounded a touch more hurried than usual. I stopped Humphrey as he walked to the door, and sought further reassurance.

‘Um . . . this decision will be popular, though, won’t it?’

‘Very popular,’ Humphrey replied firmly.

I still felt a certain nagging worry, somewhere in my bones. ‘Humphrey, I just want to be clear on this. You’re not asking me to take a courageous decision, are you?’

Humphrey was visibly shocked. ‘Of course not, Minister,’ he insisted. ‘Not even a controversial one. What a suggestion!’

[Readers of these diaries will doubtless recall that whereas a controversial decision will merely lose you votes, a courageous decision will lose you the election – Ed.]

Nonetheless, if I let it go at this, if anything went wrong I knew I should have to carry the can. So I suggested that perhaps we might take this matter to Cabinet.

‘In my opinion,’ Humphrey answered revealingly, ‘the less said about this the better.’

‘Why?’

‘Because,’ he said patiently, ‘although metadioxin is totally harmless, the name might cause anxiety in ignorant and prejudiced minds.’

I was about to tick him off for referring to my Cabinet colleagues in this way (right though he was!) when I realised that he was referring to Friends of the Earth and other crank pressure groups.

June 7th

The matter of the Propanol plant is still not fully agreed. Joan Littler, MP for Liverpool South-West, came to see me today.

I didn’t even know she was coming. I checked with Bernard, who reminded me that not only is she the PM’s PPS [Parliamentary Private Secretary, the first – and unpaid – rung on the government ladder –