The Complete Yes Minister полностью

‘They are now,’ he agreed. ‘But they’ve been our enemies for most of the past nine hundred years. If they have it, we must!’

It only needed a few seconds’ thought to realise the profound truth of what he was saying. Suddenly it didn’t seem at all incredible — just common sense, really. If the bomb is to protect us from the French, that’s a completely different matter, obviously we’ve got to have it, you can’t trust the Frogs, there’s no room for discussion about that!’

Furthermore, there is — unquestionably — increasing public concern about the bomb. And if one can be seen to be doing something about it, it could do one a lot of good politically.

Also I gathered at the Beeb that Ludovic Kennedy is preparing a TV documentary on Civil Defence, and it’s bound to be critical of the current situation. So if I were seen to be taking decisive measures…

‘When do we start?’ I asked Humphrey.

He had an immediate suggestion. ‘The London Borough of Thames Marsh has spent less on Civil Defence than any authority in the country.’

An excellent starting plan. Thames Marsh is Ben Stanley’s borough, that odious troglodite with the wispy moustache. The press hate him.

So I told Bernard to set up the visit, and make sure the press are fully informed. ‘Tell them,’ I instructed him, ‘that I lie awake at night worrying about the defenceless citizens of Thames Marsh.’

‘Do you?’ asked Bernard.

‘I will now!’ I said firmly.

March 23rd

I made an official visit to Thames Marsh Town Hall today. There was a very satisfactory turn-out from the press, I noticed, especially photographers.

I met a so-called ‘welcoming committee’ on the front steps. Loads of flash-guns going off. I was introduced to the Leader of the Council.

‘Mr Stanley, I presume,’ I said. I’d prepared it of course, but it got a jolly good laugh from the assembled hacks.

The ensuing discussion over cups of tea and sticky buns in the Mayor’s Parlour can hardly be described as a meeting of minds. But I made the point I had to make with great effectiveness, and I’m sure it will all be reported. If not, no doubt it will be leaked somehow. [In other words, Hacker would leak it — Ed.]

Stanley opened the hostilities by asking me belligerently why I thought I could come swanning down to Thames Marsh from Whitehall, telling them how to run their borough.

In return, I asked him (politely) why he was doing less than any other borough in Britain to protect the people who elected him.

‘Simple,’ he said, ‘we can’t find the money.’

I suggested he try looking for it. This produced an outburst of anger, mixed with a good dose of self-righteousness.

‘Oh that’s great,’ he snapped, smiling a thin smile, strangely at variance with his malevolent, beady eyes, a crumb or two of the Mayor’s Battenburg marzipan cake stuck to his twitching moustache. ‘Oh that’s great. Stop school meals? Buy no textbooks? Turn the OAPs[42] out into the cold?’

I wasn’t impressed by all that cheap electioneering rubbish. It’s nothing to do with our Senior Citizens.[43]

‘If you want the money,’ I said wearily, ‘I can tell you exactly where you can find it.’

‘You can?’ he sneered.

‘Yes,’ I said. I told Cartwright to tell him, because he had the file. So Cartwright read him the list that he and I had approved.

This list of suggestions would save £21 million on capital account over five years, and £750,000 a year on revenue account.

Stanley read the list. There followed a bemused silence. Finally he came up with an answer.

‘That’s just stupid,’ he said.

I asked why.

‘Because,’ he explained laboriously, ‘it’s depriving the disadvantaged of indispensable services.’

‘Jacuzzi pools?’ I asked innocently.

He knew only too well that he was on a very sticky wicket, so changed his line of defence.

‘Look,’ he said, completely abandoning the argument that Thames Marsh couldn’t find the necessary money, ‘I don’t care whether we can afford fall-out shelters or not. This is a unilateralist borough. We don’t believe in nuclear war in Thames Marsh.’

‘Mr Stanley,’ I replied carefully. ‘I don’t believe in nuclear war either. No sane man does. But the provision of fall-out shelters is government policy.’

‘It is not Thames Marsh policy,’ he snarled. ‘Thames Marsh has no quarrel with the USSR.’

‘It’s not just the USSR we’re scared of, it could be the Fr….’

I stopped myself just in time. Had I completed that word I could have caused the biggest international incident of the decade.

‘The who?’ he asked.

I though fast. ‘The fr… frigging Chinese’ was all I could think of on the spur of the moment. But it served its purpose, and the crisis passed. And I kept talking. I thought I’d better. Not that it was difficult. The idea of each borough in the UK having its own foreign policy was too absurd to contemplate. The TUC has its own foreign policy, each trade union, now each borough, where is it going to end? Soon they’ll all want their own Foreign Office — as if we haven’t enough problems with the one we’ve got.