Yes, Minister - Part One
Yes, Minister word count: 21,894... and I still haven't finished it. That wasn't supposed to happen! But here's the first bit, untitled and G-rated (for now):
Part One
Bernard and Humphrey were alone for the first time since the minister and his private secretary returned from the computing conference in Brussels.
“Bernard,” Humphrey said in that silky voice he used when he wanted something. “Welcome back.”
Bernard nodded. “Thank you, Sir Humphrey.”
“Did you have a safe trip?”
“Well, as you see,” Bernard began, then realised what Sir Humphrey meant. “Not entirely unproductive.”
Humphrey’s eyes narrowed. “Not unproductive? What do you mean?”
“I mean I think the minister has some good ideas-”
“You mean you think the minister thinks he has some good ideas?”
“Uh-yes, Sir Humphrey. About using computers in this department-”
“This department?”
“Yes.”
“That’s unthinkable!”
Bernard hesitated. “Then… why did the minister attend the conference?”
“Other departments, Bernard. Utility boards, social services, that sort of thing. Not this department.”
Bernard lifted his eyebrows as far as he dared.
Humphrey sniffed. “It ought to be plain to you why the introduction of computers would be thoroughly inappropriate for this department. Besides the time and the cost necessarily involved in implementing such equipment-besides all the practical objections-there are serious political objections and security concerns.”
“I don’t see how word processing constitutes a security concern.”
“Not word processing. Computers, Bernard! Networks! Electronic storage! I wonder that such machines are permitted at all in government offices. At just the touch of a button, it is possible to delete any piece of information-”
“Isn’t that an argument in favour of computers?”
“-Moreover, it is possible to make any number of copies of material stored on a computer-“
“Like a Xerox?”
“-And to alter the text of a document without leaving any trace-without even a note in the margin!” Humphrey spoke as though that were the most abominable thing in the world and it was impossible for Bernard, as a trained civil servant, to remain unmoved.
“I see. That could be a security concern.”
“Then there are the political concerns-surely the minister is concerned about those?”
“I don’t think he’s aware of any. I think he feels that by embracing new technology he would appear efficient, progressive-”
“Yes, yes. Bernard, you can’t expect a politician to be aware of the political repercussions of his policies.” Humphrey allowed himself a little sigh. “The introduction of computers-” (Humphrey said it like a dirty word) “-would result in a significant reduction in the number of typists, which will have the union up in arms. More importantly, it would necessitate the employment of new staff to install and operate the machines, which will have the Treasury up in arms.”
“I believe the minister thought that the existing staff could be re-trained-”
“Re-trained? That would require more staff than bringing in new people-if it’s possible at all-and who would carry out the work of the department while our clerical staff were being re-trained?”
Bernard took a step backward. There was evidently no point in trying to bring Sir Humphrey around to the minister’s views. “Then, with respect, why were you so keen for the minister to attend the conference?”
“To make sure he doesn’t make a mess off… other matters.”
At that moment, to Bernard’s relief, the minister walked in waving a sheet of paper.
“Look at this!” he said. “Ah, Humphrey, just the man I wanted to see. Look what I’ve done!”
Humphrey looked pained. “And what have you done, minister?”
“I made this-typed it-on a computer!” Hacker said the word with reverence. “Look at it.”
Humphrey took the piece of paper and read aloud: “Proposal for the introduction of computers in the Department of Administrative Affairs.”
Hacker nodded enthusiastically. “And?”
“That’s all it says, minister.”
“Yes, but what do you think.”
Humphrey glanced at Bernard and answered, “I think it is very well typed, minister.”
“Yes, but what do you think?”
Humphrey stiffened. He wanted to reply that it was one of the worst ideas Hacker had come up with in weeks, but he couldn’t afford to have the minister enquire what his other bad ideas were, lest he find they had not been acted upon in his absence. Instead he answered, “I think it is a noble objective, but unfortunately impossible to implement.”
Hacker looked genuinely shocked. “Why?”
“Well, besides the significant practical obstacles, there are serious political objections and security concerns-”
“Yes, yes, yes Humphrey. I know exactly what you’re going to say and I disagree. I’ve heard all about it at the conference. The capabilities of computers with word processing software. The significant savings-”
“You mean the significant costs of introducing them?”
“There would be some initial costs involved, yes, but an investment worth making. Think of it, Humphrey-the ability to change a document without re-typing the whole thing! Infinite copies at the touch of a button!”
Observing from a few paces’ distance, Bernard steeled himself for a list of advantages that precisely matched Humphrey’s list of disadvantages. But what Hacker actually said was something neither Bernard nor Humphrey had anticipated:
“And if I were to have a computer, here on my desk, I’d be able to edit my own papers without sending them back and forth to three different secretaries.”
Humphrey turned purple. The minister had just proposed to abrogate one of the fundamental operating principles of the Civil Service.
*
That evening Humphrey called one of his war councils at a corner table in the bar. Sir Arnold was there too. Bernard knew it was serious because Humphrey offered him a drink.
“Thank you,” Bernard said and drew up a dining chair to the low table. Sir Humphrey and Sir Arnold had the two armchairs.
“Well,” said Humphrey.
It was an ominous word. Bernard licked his lip nervously.
“I was just telling Sir Arnold about your little trip. That conference was supposed to get us out of one mess, but it’s got us into another. Oh, you mustn’t blame yourself, Bernard. Perhaps, in more experienced hands, these foolish ideas about ‘progress’ and ‘efficiency’ could have been nipped in the bud. But sometimes ministers will insist on having ideas, and all we can do is ensure they come to nothing.”
Bernard did not reply. He was not sure what troubled him the most: that Sir Humphrey blamed him for the minister’s new policy, that he thought all ministerial policies should be nipped in the bud, or that his metaphor about bud-nipping was perfectly un-mixed.
Humphrey leaned in a little. “And how do we do that, Bernard?”
Bernard couldn’t stop himself. “By sending them to conferences in Brussels-well, that’s what we said last week.”
Humphrey’s eyes flashed. Bernard had been bolder of late and he couldn’t fathom why; worse, the annual reviews did not come up again for another eight months, so he couldn’t play that card. That was why Humphrey had asked Sir Arnold to join them: in case young Bernard needed calling into line. “What is the first rule of being a minister’s private secretary?” he asked.
“Keep him busy.”
“And how do we do that?”
“Boxes?” Bernard wondered what Sir Humphrey would do if he had said ‘conferences’.
Humphrey smiled. “Good, Bernard! Pointless meetings, trivial emergencies, meaningless committees but, above all, lots and lots of red boxes. How many did you give him last week?”
Bernard took a moment to count. “Only nine-on account of the trip.”
Humphrey rolled his eyes at Sir Arnold. “I think we have our problem.” But the time for recriminations was over. He gave Bernard his orders: “Make sure he has at least three boxes every night this week, and eight on the weekend-bursting at the seams.” He added, for Arnold’s benefit, “Our boy reads everything we give him. It makes him feel important, you see. Responsible. Well informed.” He looked at Bernard again. “And we would not be doing a very good job if we kept our minister less than fully informed, would we?” Humphrey smiled. “Is that quite clear?”
“Yes, Sir Humphrey.” Bernard was familiar with the strategy, though he was no longer sure if he approved of it.
“Then good night, Bernard.”
“Uh-yes. Thank you, Sir Humphrey.” Bernard rose. He hadn’t touched his scotch.
*
At 11:30 Annie asked if Jim planned on finishing his work before she went to bed. At 12:30 she asked if he planned on finishing his work any time that night. At 3:00 she got up in her dressing gown and asked what the purpose of the Civil Service was if the minister had to sit up half the night doing paperwork-though she suspected that was precisely the purpose of the Civil Service.
“Probably all night, as it happens,” Hacker said without looking up.
“What is all this, anyway?” Annie picked up a file from the top of one of the boxes. “Memorandum on the Standardisation of the Format of Internal Memoranda.” She noticed that someone had corrected ‘Memorandums’ to ‘Memoranda’ and added a note in the margin, in painfully neat handwriting: Latin 2nd declension neuter plural. “Memos about memos! Jim, why do you need to read this?”
“Because one of the deputy secretaries to the permanent secretary wants everyone to use the same size and shape of notepad, because it makes things easier to file, but the secretary to the deputy secretary doesn’t know how to spell memorandum-memorandums-I mean, memoranda.”
Annie blinked. “You’ve become one of them!”
“I don’t think Humphrey would agree,” Hacker sighed. “But that’s just the point of these word processors I was telling you about. If we did everything on computers, I wouldn’t have to waste my time adjudicating debates between quarto and octavo-sized notepads!”
“But why do you have to waste your time? Surely your staff can handle simple things like stationery requests without getting the minister involved?”
“In any normal office they could, but this is the Civil Service, so I need to waste my time to make sure they’re not wasting their time.” Hacker paused. Suddenly he realised how tired he was. “What I don’t understand is why this has all started up again. I thought he’d stopped giving me this rubbish. I thought we’d come to an understanding.”
“You told me yourself-you can’t trust Sir Humphrey.”
“Not Sir Humphrey.” Hacker leaned his head on his hand. “Bernard. Bernard does the boxes.”
Annie kissed him on the top of the head. “And he seemed like such a nice man.”
*
When Bernard came for the minister’s diary session the next morning, he found Hacker asleep at his desk. Bernard thought of the three red boxes that had been dutifully returned to him that morning and wondered if he ought to come back later. But the minister’s first appointment was only half an hour away-something Sir Humphrey had arranged with a representative from one of the companies who sold office supplies to government departments-and, while the meeting would in all likelihood send the minister to sleep again, it would be poor form if he were unconscious at the start of it. So Bernard coughed quietly, then more loudly, and when that didn’t rouse the minister he retraced his steps, walked through the door again, and slammed it behind him.
“Who? What?” Suddenly the minister was bolt upright, though evidently not yet quite awake. His bleary eyes settled on his private secretary. “Bernard,” he said, “what in the devil was that? It sounded like the sky was falling!”
“I’m not sure what you mean, minister, but then I’ve never heard the sky fall.”
Hacker stared; he could never tell whether Bernard was making fun of him or whether he simply couldn’t help himself. But he was too tired to worry. “I must have imagined it,” he said, trying not to yawn. It was obvious he’d been asleep. Then he noticed Bernard was holding his diary. “Well, shall we get down to it?”
“Yes, minister.”
*
The meeting with the office supply company was winding up and Hacker was still not sure what the point of it was. Sir Humphrey did most of the talking and for once the minister was glad of it, for it left him free to look out the window and daydream and doze off occasionally.
“Don’t you agree, minister?”
“Minister?”
“Hmm?” Hacker blinked and found Humphrey and Miss Eagles from Universal Stationers waiting on his word. He cleared his throat. “Could you repeat the question, please?”
Humphrey smiled. “Miss Eagles was simply seeking to confirm that we’re all in agreement on the importance of maintaining what has been an excellent and mutually advantageous relationship with one of Britain’s principal purveyors of office supplies.”
“Of course,” said Hacker. He smiled at Miss Eagles, who seemed well pleased. “Perhaps you can sort out our new standardised memo pads, too-”
“Perhaps, minister,” Humphrey interrupted. “At present our custom stationery requirements are catered for by the government printer-for security reasons, as I’m sure you can understand,” he explained for Miss Eagles’ benefit. “But Universal, as you know, is our number one supplier of other office essentials.”
“Well, I’m glad of it,” said Hacker. He wasn’t sure what else to say.
The meeting ended and they all shook hands.
“A useful meeting,” Humphrey said as he showed Miss Eagles out. “If you forward next year’s invoice to the minister’s office, I’ll see that it’s taken care of.”
“Thank you, Sir Humphrey. You’ve been a great help to us.”
“Not at all, ma’am.”
Only then did Hacker begin to worry about what, exactly, he had just agreed to. “Bernard, did you minute that?”
Bernard looked up from his noughts-and-crosses. “Yes, minister.”
“Good. Put it in one of my boxes for tonight.”
*
There was a division of the House in the afternoon. Hacker managed to go through the right door and remain awake throughout the entire proceeding. When he got back to his office he found Bernard waiting with for him with some paperwork.
“It’s the proposed revisions to the Parking Infringement Officers (Miscellaneous Provisions) Regulations 1978,” said Bernard, proffering the file.
Hacker sighed. Sometimes he imagined one could burn every petty rule and regulation ever to pass through the Department of Administrative Affairs and Britain would go on functioning just as before-only more efficiently. “Put it in the box, Bernard.”
“Actually, Sir Humphrey was rather hoping you’d take a look at it now.”
“I thought we agreed this morning that I would keep this afternoon free to work on my new policy?”
“But that was before this came up, minister.”
Hacker frowned. “Is it urgent?”
It was urgent as far as Sir Humphrey was concerned, so Bernard had to think on his feet. “Ordinarily it wouldn’t be, minister, only the… interim provisions are due to expire and if you don’t approve the new regulations then it may be necessary to… re-legislate. Which will take much longer.”
Hacker suspected Humphrey and Bernard were up to something, but he couldn’t imagine how a few minor regulations about parking infringement officers could damage him politically. Even if every parking infringement officer in his constituency voted against him in the next election, they wouldn’t make a dent in his majority. More likely it was another one of their filibusters, in which case all he could do was get it out of the way as quickly as possible. He reached for his pen. “Very well then, I’ll approve it.”
“Don’t you want to read it first?”
“I’m sure your explanatory memo will tell me everything I need to know-as usual.” Bernard’s explanatory memos frequently told him nothing, but that had never stopped him approving regulations in the past.
“I’m afraid there isn’t one, minister.”
“Waiting on those new memo-pads, were you?”
“No, only Sir Humphrey gave it to me just this afternoon, and he thought, since the revisions really aren’t very long, there was no need for a separate memorandum.”
Hacker looked at Bernard. He seemed uncomfortable. Clearly Humphrey was behind all this, and that meant there was no point in arguing with Bernard, for that would only bring the master down upon him, and he was too tired to stand up to Sir Humphrey. Hacker sat at his desk. “All right Bernard, I’ll read the regulations-after we make a time to discuss my proposal. How about tomorrow morning?”
“I’m afraid tomorrow morning is tied up with committees, minister.”
“Tomorrow afternoon?”
“Cabinet.”
“And after cabinet?”
“Drinks with the Chairman of the Waste Board.”
Hacker winced. “Then what about Friday?”
“On Friday you’re opening the new document repository.”
“All day? Where on earth is it?”
“In a disused mine shaft in Sheffield.”
Hacker looked like he wanted to visit a disused mine shaft even less than he wanted to have drinks with the Chairman of the Waste Board. “But there’s so much to do, Bernard. I really can’t afford to spend all of Friday opening a building! I want to work on my new policy.”
“You mean you don’t want to go?”
“I don’t have time to go.”
“It was in your diary, minister.”
“So was this afternoon, to work on my policy.”
“In that case, I’ll call the Sheffield office.” Sir Humphrey was not going to be pleased, Bernard thought. Then he thought of something else. “Though it may be tricky, minister, as I believe they’ve already inscribed your name on the plaque.”
“Plaque?”
“Yes: when a VIP opens a new building or turns the first sod it is customary to affix a plaque to the building or, in the case of a sod having been turned, to the finished building, commemorating the opening or the turning of the sod by the VIP in question.”
The only part of Bernard’s sentence that made any impression on Hacker were the letters ‘VIP’.
“Of course these things are prepared some time in advance,” Bernard went on, “and you see, minister, it will be difficult to find another Right Honourable James Hacker to open the building on Friday.”
“I see.” Opened by the Rt. Hon. James Hacker, Minister for Administrative Affairs… That sounded rather good. “Perhaps I will go to Sheffield,” said Hacker. “But, Bernard-do you think I’ll get a photo in the paper?”
“I’m sure that could be arranged, minister.”
*