The Complete Yes Minister

I disagreed. ‘It may be harmless chemically,’ I said, ‘but it’s lethal politically.’

‘It can’t hurt anyone,’ he insisted.

I pointed out that it could finish me off.

No sooner had we begun talking than Number Ten was on the phone. The political office. Joan Littler had obviously made sure that Number Ten watched the Nine O’Clock News last night.

I tried to explain that this was merely a little local difficulty, and there were exports and jobs prospects. They asked how many jobs: I had to admit that it was only about ninety – but well-paid jobs, and in an area of high unemployment.

None of this cut any ice with Number Ten – I was talking to the Chief Political Adviser, but doubtless he was acting under orders. There was no point in fighting this particular losing battle with the PM, so I muttered (as Humphrey was listening, and Bernard was probably listening-in) that I was coming round to their point of view, i.e. that there was a risk to three or four marginals.

I rang off. Humphrey was eyeing me with a quizzical air.

‘Humphrey,’ I began carefully, ‘something has just struck me.’

‘I noticed,’ he replied dryly.

I ignored the wisecrack. I pointed out that there were perfectly legitimate arguments against this scheme. A loss of public confidence, for instance.

‘You mean votes,’ he interjected.

I denied it, of course. I explained that I didn’t exactly mean votes. Votes in themselves are not a consideration. But the public will is a valid consideration. We are a democracy. And it looks as if the public are against this scheme.

‘The public,’ said Sir Humphrey, ‘are ignorant and misguided.’

‘What do you mean?’ I demanded. ‘It was the public who elected me.’

There was a pointed silence.

Then Sir Humphrey continued: ‘Minister, in a week it will all have blown over, and in a year’s time there will be a safe and successful factory on Merseyside.’

‘A week is a long time in politics,’ I answered.¹

‘A year is a short time in government,’ responded Sir Humphrey.

I began to get cross. He may be in government. But I’m in politics. And the PM is not pleased.

Humphrey then tried to tell me that I was putting party before country. That hoary old cliche again. I told him to find a new one.

Bernard said that a new cliche could perhaps be said to be a contradiction in terms. Thank you, Bernard, for all your help!

I made one more attempt to make Humphrey understand. ‘Humphrey,’ I said, ‘you understand nothing because you lead a sheltered life. I want to survive. I’m not crossing the PM.’

He was very bitter. And very insulting. ‘Must you always be so concerned with climbing the greasy pole?’

I faced the question head on. ‘Humphrey,’ I explained, ‘the greasy pole is important. I have to climb it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because,’ I said, ‘it’s there.’

June 11th

Today there was an astonishing piece in The Times. A leak.

I was furious.

I asked Bernard how The Times knows the wording of the Henderson Report before I do.

‘There’s been a leak, Minister,’ he explained.

The boy’s a fool. Obviously there’s been a leak. The question is, who’s been leaking?

On second thoughts, perhaps he’s not a fool. Perhaps he knows. And can’t or won’t tell.

‘It’s labelled “Confidential”,’ I pointed out.

‘At least it wasn’t labelled “Restricted”,’ he said. [RESTRICTED means it was in the papers yesterday. CONFIDENTIAL means it won’t be in the papers till today – Ed.]

I decided to put Bernard on the spot. ‘Who leaked this? Humphrey?’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I’m sure he didn’t.’

‘Are you?’ I asked penetratingly.

‘Well . . . he probably didn’t.’

‘No?’ I was at my most penetrating.