The Complete Yes Minister полностью

It started badly though. As soon as I broached the subject he stated his position firmly. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Hacker, but the BBC cannot give in to government pressure.’ His black bushy eyebrows bristled sternly.

‘Well, let’s leave that on one side, shall we?’ said Sir Humphrey smoothly.

I thought Humphrey was supposed to be on my side.

‘No really,’ I began, ‘I must insist…’

But he silenced me, rather rudely I thought. ‘Let’s leave that on one side,’ he repeated. ‘Please, Minister.’

I had no option really. But I later realised that I had underestimated my Permanent Secretary.

He turned to Mr Aubrey and said: ‘Frank, can I raise something else? There is considerable disquiet about the BBC’s hostility to the Government.’

Aubrey laughed off the idea. ‘That’s absurd.’

‘Well, is it?’ asked Humphrey. And he leaned across to the empty chair beside him and opened up an enormous briefcase. Not his usual slimline leather job with gold engraved initials, but a big fat bulging leather bag, so heavy that his driver had carried it into the club for us.

I’d been preoccupied and worried, and I’d scarcely noticed it. If I had thought about it I suppose I’d have assumed it contained some documents with such a high security clearance that Humphrey had to take them with him everywhere he went.

In the event, it turned out that it contained a number of files that he intended to show the man from the Beeb.

‘We have been documenting instances of bias in BBC current affairs.’ He handed over a file with Bias written across it in a felt pen in large red letters. Francis Aubrey put down his knife and fork and was about to open it when Humphrey handed over a second file, with the words Favourable News Stories Not Reported By The BBC. Then he handed over one file after another, pointing out their contents.

Excessive Publicity For Other Countries’ Case Against Britain — ‘Especially our Common Market enemies. Er, partners, I mean,’ explained Humphrey. Jokes Against The Prime Minister. Unnecessary Publicity for Anti-government Demonstrations. And finally, one huge file, much fatter than the others, which he heaved across the table, marked, Ministers’ Programme Suggestions Not Accepted.

Francis Aubrey was clearly shaken by this mass of incriminating allegations and evidence. ‘But… I’m… but I’m sure we’ve got answers to all these.’ He sounded more firm than he looked.

‘Of course the BBC’s got answers,’ I told him. ‘It’s always got answers. Silly ones, but it’s always got them.’

Humphrey was taking a cooler line. ‘Of course the BBC has explanations,’ he said soothingly. ‘But I just thought I ought to warn you that questions are being asked.’

‘What sort of questions?’ Mr Aubrey was looking even more worried.

‘Well,’ said Humphrey thoughtfully, ‘for example, if Parliament were to be televised, whether it shouldn’t be entrusted to ITV.’

‘You can’t be serious,’ he exploded.

‘And,’ continued Humphrey in the same quiet and thoughtful vein, ‘whether the BBC administration has really made the cuts in jobs and premises that we have endured in government. Should a Select Committee be appointed to scrutinise all BBC expenditure?’

Francis Aubrey started to panic. ‘That would be an intolerable intrusion.’ Resorting to pomposity to hide his thoroughly understandable fears.

I was enjoying myself thoroughly by this time.

‘Of course,’ said Sir Humphrey agreeably. ‘And then there’s the extraordinary matter of the boxes at Ascot, Wimbledon, Lord’s, Covent Garden, the Proms…’

I pricked up my ears. This was news to me.

Francis said, ‘Ah yes, but these are a technical requirement. For production and engineering staff, you know.’

At this juncture Humphrey fished about at the bottom of his copious and now nearly empty Gladstone bag, and produced a box of photographs and press cuttings.

‘Hmmm,’ he said, and smiled and dropped his final bombshell. ‘Reports suggest your production and engineering staff are all holding champagne glasses, all accompanied by their wives — or other ladies of equal distinction — and all bearing a remarkable similarity to governors, directors and executives of the corporation and their friends. I’m wondering whether it is my duty to pass the evidence to the Department of Inland Revenue. What’s your view?’

And, with that, he handed over the box of photographs.

In silence, an ashen Francis Aubrey looked through them.

As he stopped at a splendid ten by eight portrait Humphrey leaned across, glanced at it, and observed, ‘You’ve come out awfully well, haven’t you?’