Today I had the meeting with Sir Humphrey. It was supposed to be about our new responsibilities in the area of local government. But I saw to it that it was about Cartwright’s scheme.
It began with the usual confusion between us.
‘Local authorities,’ I began. ‘What are we going to do about them?’
‘Well, there are three principal areas for action: budget, accommodation and staffing.’
I congratulated him for putting his finger right on it. ‘Well done, Humphrey. That’s where all the trouble is.’
He was nonplussed. ‘Trouble?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘with all those frightful councils. Budget, accommodation and staffing. They all go up and up and up.’
‘No, Minister.’ He had assumed his patronising tone again. ‘I’m afraid you misunderstand. I’m referring to this Department’s budget, accommodation and staffing. Obviously they must all be increased now that we have all those extra responsibilities.’
I was even
He didn’t answer my question. He hesitated momentarily, and then tried to divert me with flattery. ‘Minister, this new remit gives you more influence, more Cabinet seniority – but you do not have to let it give you any more work or worry. That would be foolishness.’
Nowadays I find I’m able to resist his blandishments very easily. Stubbornly I repeated that we have to put a stop to all this ghastly waste and extravagance that’s going on.
‘Why?’ he asked.
I was staggered. ‘Why?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Because it’s my job, we’re the government, we were elected to govern.’
‘Minister, surely you don’t intend to tamper with the democratic rights of freely-elected local government representatives?’
Humphrey’s new-found interest in democracy surprised me slightly. For a moment I couldn’t think of an answer to what sounded like a perfectly reasonable point. And then it became clear. There is
‘Local councils aren’t democratic at all,’ I said. ‘Local democracy is a farce. Nobody knows who their local councillor is. Most people don’t even vote in local elections. And the ones who
He looked po-faced. ‘They are public-spirited citizens, selflessly sacrificing their spare time.’
‘Have you ever met any?’ I enquired.
‘Occasionally. When there was no alternative,’ he replied, with one of his occasional flashes of honesty.
‘I’ve met plenty of them. Half of them are self-important busybodies on an ego trip and the other half are in it for what they can get out of it.’
‘Perhaps they ought to be in the House of Commons,’ said Humphrey.
I think I must have given him a dirty look, because he added hastily, ‘I mean, to see how a proper legislative assembly behaves.’
I decided that we’d done enough beating about the bush. I told Humphrey that I intended to get a grip on these local councils. And I announced that I had a plan.
He smiled a supercilious smile. ‘
I told him that I was going to insist that any council official who puts up a project costing over £10,000 must accompany it with failure standards.
‘With what?’
‘With a statement,’ I said, ‘that he will have failed if his project does not achieve certain pre-set results or exceeds fixed time or staff or budget limits.’
I had hoped, faintly, that he would think this was my idea. No such luck.
‘Minister,’ he demanded, ‘where did you get the idea for this dangerous nonsense?’
I could see that Dr Cartwright needed my protection. ‘From someone in the Department,’ I replied evasively.
He exploded. ‘Minister, I have warned you before about the dangers of talking to people in the Department. I
Bernard intervened. Just as nature abhors a vacuum, Bernard abominates a mixed metaphor. ‘Actually, Sir Humphrey,’ he explained confidentially, ‘you can’t have a graveyard in a minefield because all the corpses would . . .’ and he made a vague explosion gesture. Humphrey gave him a look which reduced him to silence.
I was more immediately interested in why Humphrey, who has been claiming that he got me this local government job, is now saying that it’s a minefield and a graveyard. Was this a friendly act?
‘Well, what
‘Um . . . yes, well . . . quite honestly, Minister, I didn’t think you’d
