The Complete Yes Minister полностью

We eyed each other carefully – I wasn’t entirely sure of my next move, but thankfully Bernard stepped in with an inspirational reply. ‘I think the Minister means a hypothetical backbencher,’ he said. Good old Bernard.

Hughes said that it was highly improbable that such a question would be asked.

I ignored that, and explained that if the question were to be asked, there were only two possible replies: if the PM says yes it would be damaging to the government in the country – but if the PM says no it would be even more damaging to the government in Europe. And to the PM personally – in view of the Napoleon Prize.

Hughes nodded, and waited. So I continued. ‘Suppose a hypothetical Minister got wind of this hypothetical backbencher’s question, in advance, what should he do?’

‘The only responsible course for a loyal minister,’ he said carefully, ‘would be to see that the question was not tabled. That must be obvious.’

‘It’s a serious business trying to suppress an MP’s question,’ I said. Of course, he and I both knew that, as yet, there was no question and no such backbencher – but that there could be, if I chose to set it up.

‘The only way to stop him,’ I offered, ‘might be to let the backbencher table a question asking the PM to squash rumours about the closure of the Department of Administrative Affairs.’

There it was. My offer of a deal. Out in the open. Hughes paused to consider, just for a few moments, in case he could see a way out. But there was none.

And, to his credit, he handled it superbly. At once out came all the appropriate phrases: ‘But I’m sure . . . whatever made you think? . . . no question of anything but the fullest support . . .’ etc.

Then Humphrey, who’d got the idea at last, moved in for the kill. ‘But you said only a few days ago that the plan to abolish the Department had been put up and the PM was smiling on it.’

‘Smiling at it,’ said Donald Hughes smoothly. ‘Smiling at it, not on it. The idea was ridiculous, laughable, out of the question. A joke.’ Beautifully done – I take my hat off to him.

So I asked him for a minute from the PM’s office, to be circulated to all departments within twenty-four hours, scotching the rumour. So that we could all share the joke.

‘Do you really think it’s necessary?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ replied Humphrey, Bernard, Frank, Martin and I. In unison.

Hughes said that in that case, he was sure it could be arranged, that it would be a pleasure, how much he’d enjoyed chatting to us all, excused himself and left. Presumably he hurried straight to Number Ten.

Game, set and match. One of my most brilliant performances. I am exceedingly pleased with myself.

Bernard asked, after Donald Hughes had gone, if Hughes can really fix it for us. ‘Don’t Prime Ministers have a mind of their own?’ he asked.

‘Certainly,’ I said to Bernard. ‘But in the words of Chuck Colson, President Nixon’s henchman, when you’ve got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow.’

¹ Dr Donald Hughes was the Prime Minister’s Senior Policy Adviser, brought into government from outside. Tough, intelligent, hard-bitten and with no love for senior civil servants.

² Hacker was clearly right about this. On the same euphemistic principle, the Ministry of War was renamed the Ministry of Defence, and the Department responsible for unemployment was called the Department of Employment.

6

The Right to Know

February 9th

Today I had an environmental issue to deal with. A deputation of several environmentalists brought me a petition. Six fat exercise books, full of signatures. There must be thousands of signatures, if not hundreds of thousands.

They were protesting about my proposed new legislation to sort out all the existing confusions and anomalies in the present system – not that you can call it a system – which is a mess, a hotchpotch. Local authorities, tourist authorities, national parks, the National Trust, the Countryside Commission, the CPRE¹ are all backbiting and buckpassing and nobody knows where they are and nothing gets done. The sole purpose of the new legislation is to tidy all this up and make all these wretched committees work together.

I explained this to the deputation. ‘You know what committees are?’ I said. ‘Always squabbling and procrastinating and wasting everyone’s time.’

‘We are a committee,’ said one of them, an unprepossessing bespectacled female of indeterminate age but clear upper-middle-class Hampstead origins. She seemed rather offended.

I explained that I didn’t mean her sort of committee; all that I was trying to do was create a new authority with clear simple procedures. Public money will be saved. It seems to me that it should be welcome to everyone.

However, these representatives of the Hampstead middle class were worried about some place called Hayward’s Spinney. Apparently it is going to lose its protected status under the new scheme – like one or two other places – because it’s simply not economic to administer it properly.