HACKER:
We’ve done all right, haven’t we, Bernard?
WOOLLEY:
Er, yes, Minister.
HACKER:
I mean, I may not have been the outstanding success of this administration, but I haven’t exactly been a failure. Have I?
WOOLLEY:
No, Minister. You’ve done all right.
HACKER:
And in some ways I’ve been quite successful. And if Martin were moved to the Treasury … there’s an outside chance I could get the Foreign Office!
SIR HUMPHREY:
[Looking uncomfortable] Er, y-y-yes, perhaps you might.
HACKER:
You don’t sound very certain.
SIR HUMPHREY:
I’m not certain, Minister.
HACKER:
Why not? What have you heard??
SIR HUMPHREY:
Oh, no, nothing, nothing, I assure you. That’s why I’m not certain.
HACKER:
Well, how does Corbett know when we don’t?
SIR HUMPHREY:
Well, perhaps he has the PM’s ear.
HACKER:
Yes … And he is in the PM’s pocket.
WOOLLEY:
Er, then the PM must have rather a large ear.
Visibly flustered but desperate to fight off his fears, Hacker laughs weakly and declares that there is probably nothing to worry about. He is not, however, keen to agree with Sir Humphrey that they should commit to attending the conference in Brussels before they know when the reshuffle is going to happen: ‘I’ve known this sort of thing happening before: one day you’re out of your office, next day you’re out of office!’
While Hacker rushes off to obsess about his future, Sir Humphrey wanders over to his club to have a brandy or two with the Cabinet Secretary, Sir Arnold Robinson, in the hope of getting some pertinent gossip. Sure enough, as the eyebrows arch and the heads nod, valuable information is exchanged.
The PM, Sir Arnold reveals, thinks that Hacker has done ‘all right’. There has, however, been an interesting development: Brussels has enquired as to his availability, as a ‘good European’, for the next Commissionership. Sir Humphrey’s ears prick up at this: ‘So you think,’ he asks excitedly, ‘that he might be gently eased out?’ Sir Arnold gives him a knowing look. Sir Humphrey gives him a knowing look in return. At this point, Bernard Woolley comes in to join them.
Assuring him that they are ‘merely conjecturing’, they ask how he would feel about having a new Minister. Woolley is taken aback. ‘I’d be very sorry,’ he says, sincerely. Sir Humphrey and Sir Bernard exchange bemused looks. Woolley, in turn, cannot understand their apparent lack of concern for poor Hacker’s plight, even if they are only conjecturing. ‘But the Minister,’ he protests, is ‘just starting to get a grip on the job.’
SIR ARNOLD:
Ministers with a grip on the job are a bit of a nuisance, you know.
SIR HUMPHREY:
They argue.
WOOLLEY:
But all Ministers argue.
SIR HUMPHREY:
Yes, but if they’ve got a grip on the job there’s a real danger that they might be right! One tells them that something is impossible and they dig out an old paper in which one had said it was easy. Very tedious!
SIR ARNOLD:
But the moment they’ve gone one can wipe the slate clean and start again with the new boy. Wonderful things, reshuffles. And Prime Ministers like them, too. Fresh. Decisive. Keeps everyone on the hop. It’s only Ministers who panic about them.
WOOLLEY:
[Chuckling at the thought] Wouldn’t it be interesting if Ministers were fixed, and Permanent Secretaries were shuffled around?
[Sir Humphrey and Sir Arnold look at Woolley as if he has gone mad]
SIR HUMPHREY:
That, Bernard, would strike at the very heart of the system that has made Britain what she is today.
SIR ARNOLD:
Power goes with permanence.
SIR HUMPHREY:
Impermanence is impotence.
SIR ARNOLD:
And rotation is castration. It’s time they all had a little spin.
WOOLLEY:
Er, yes, but, surely, in a democracy––
SIR HUMPHREY:
Thank you, Bernard, that’ll be all!
It is only after Woolley leaves that Sir Arnold warns Sir Humphrey that he would be wise to keep the champagne on ice. The talk about Hacker’s possible successor, he confides, suggests that it could well be none other than Basil Corbett.
Hacker, meanwhile, has retreated to the security of his home, sitting with his wife, Annie, mulling over what might be his fate. Still fishing for reassuring compliments, he fails to hook an encouraging word even from Annie:
HACKER:
I don’t even know whether I’ve been a success or a failure. What do you think?
ANNIE:
I think you’ve done all right.
HACKER:
Hmm, but is that good enough?
ANNIE:
I don’t know. Is it?
HACKER:
I don’t know. Is it?
ANNIE:
I don’t know.
HACKER:
It’s so difficult to tell, you see? The PM might think I’ve been too much of a success. You know – a challenge to the leadership.
ANNIE:
[Startled] YOU???
HACKER:
[Slightly hurt] No, not me. Martin, with my support. And, you see, if the PM is standing by to repel boarders, then Martin can’t be got rid of safely – which he can’t, not the Foreign Secretary – well, I’m the obvious one for demotion. You see: isolate Martin.
ANNIE:
Where would you be sent?
HACKER:
Oh, there’s no shortage of useless non-jobs: Lord President, Lord Privy Seal, Minister for Sport, with Special Responsibility for Droughts and Floods …
Eating away inside of him throughout this time is the knowledge that he is being undermined and outmanoeuvred by his bête noire, Basil Corbett – a rival politician who clearly knows how to dirty his hands and do bad things better than he does:
HACKER:
He’s a smooth-tongued, hard-nosed, cold-eyed, two-faced creep!
ANNIE:
Why’s he so successful?
HACKER:
Because he’s a smooth-tongued, hard-nosed, cold-eyed, two-faced creep!
Hacker acknowledges that he will have to elbow Corbett out of the way before Corbett elbows him. ‘Elbows,’ he reflects, ‘the most important weapon in a politician’s armoury.’ Annie looks a little disappointed, and replies: ‘Other than integrity.’ Hacker looks at her as if she has just slipped into insanity, and rocks back with laughter at the thought of something so naive. He has, by this stage, long accepted Machiavelli’s dictum that a politician must be willing to ‘act like a beast’ and know how to ‘be a fox to recognise traps, and a lion to frighten away wolves’.53
It is at that moment, however, that he gets a phone call informing him that he is wanted as one of Britain’s new Commissioners for the EEC. Suddenly some of the appetite for the dirty domestic fight fades away, and he allows himself to contemplate hopping on board the Brussels gravy train, leaving all the party infighting far behind as he and Annie embrace a new, exceptionally well-remunerated, life of leisure and luxury. ‘I think we ought to go over and have a look,’ he suggests dreamily, trying hard not to sound excited.
Sir Humphrey, when he hears about the plan for this trip, starts to panic. Faced with the prospect of having to contend with Corbett rather than Hacker, he realises that he would much prefer the devil he already knows – and the one he can better control – so he starts searching for a solution.
Realising that he has been a tad overzealous in his attempts at frustrating his Minister’s ambitions, blocking him not unwisely but too much, he resolves to conjure up an eye-catching personal triumph to convince Hacker, and the Prime Minister,
that the right man is in the right place. He thus advises Hacker to ignore the EEC and publicise his original plan to bulk-buy British goods, creating more jobs, more investment, more export orders and, last but by no means least, more votes.
Hacker, upon hearing this tailor-made strategy, is excited. It would indeed get him good publicity, and more votes, and it would prove that he has a good pair of elbows.
As the two men chuckle at the thought of what, between them, they are going to achieve, they also acknowledge the nature of the relationship that they share:
SIR HUMPHREY:
When it comes down to it, Minister, one’s own country must come first.
HACKER:
How true.
SIR HUMPHREY:
And although, strictly, this isn’t a Government matter, Minister, I personally would be deeply sorry to lose you.
HACKER:
Oh, really, Humphrey? Is that true?
SIR HUMPHREY:
Yes, and I mean that, Minister, most sincerely.
HACKER:
That’s awfully nice, Humphrey. Yes, I suppose we have got rather fond of one another, ha ha, in a way!
SIR HUMPHREY:
Ha ha, in a way, yes!
HACKER:
More like a terrorist and his hostage!
WOOLLEY:
Er, which one of you is the terrorist?
SIR HUMPHREY/HACKER:
He is!
The awkward bonhomie is broken up rather brusquely when Woolley lets slip who would have taken over at the DAA had the reshuffle actually taken place. ‘Basil Corbett?’ snaps Hacker. ‘Yes, Minister,’ Sir Humphrey admits.
This fine episode, like all the others, demonstrated the exceptional quality of a series that was even more insightful and confident than its predecessor, and it would come as no surprise, that, as a consequence, Yes Minister would once again be showered with praise and weighed down with awards.
With audiences ranging from 2.8 million to 4.2 million – again, very healthy for BBC2 – with an average of 3.2 million (which ensured that the show was regularly among the channel’s top performers in the weekly ratings), the response from those questioned about the series by the BBC’s own researchers was exceptionally positive, with the Reaction Index (RI) estimated at 81 per cent for the seven-week run, which was a 7 per cent increase on the performance of the previous series.54 More encouraging still were the many positive comments from those asked about the show, with those employed as civil servants actually being more positive than anyone else who was polled, giving the series an RI of 85 per cent. ‘It was generally considered,’ said the report, ‘true to life (especially by those with experience of working for the Civil Service)’.55
The critics also lauded the sitcom, and, in particular, saluted the partnership between Eddington and Hawthorne, with one hailing them as ‘the best double act since Morecambe and Wise’.56 The most common theme of all, of course, was how funny the series was, with many seasoned sitcom specialists acknowledging its status as one of the classics. Such judgements were soon reaffirmed by the likes of BAFTA, which honoured the show with awards for Best Comedy Series and Nigel Hawthorne for Best Light Entertainment Performance.
Repeated on BBC1 towards the end of 1981, the series continued to attract attention and praise, while whetting the appetite for another set of episodes. Arguably the most inclusive and accessible means of access to contemporary political discourse, the show had become something more than just another sitcom. It had come to seem like a natural part of British life.
‘Does that mean that Yes Minister has won again?’ the notoriously belligerent left-wing Labour MP Dennis Skinner shouted out in the House of Commons during the latest debate about the Civil Service.57 The reference, in a sense, provided its own answer: Yes Minister was now rooted so soundly in the public – and political – consciousness that the governors appeared just as keen as the governed to see what it would say, and show, next.
Case Study 2
From the Government of People to the Administration of Things
Probably the most talked-about episode in the second series of Yes Minister concerned the story about the hospital without any patients. Rather like the classic Bilko episode, ‘The Empty Store’,58 and the Monty Python sketch about a cheese shop ‘uncontaminated by cheese’,59 it was a high-concept premise whose comic simplicity was irresistibly engaging.
It begins with Hacker discovering that, although there are some five hundred or more administrative personnel currently employed at the hospital, there are no patients. Bernard Woolley explains that the building was finished fifteen months ago, and was fully staffed, but then, thanks to Government cuts, no money was left over to recruit any medical services. Hacker is astonished, but Woolley is quick to reassure him that there is, in fact, one sick person in situ: ‘The Deputy Chief Administrator fell over a piece of scaffolding and broke his leg’.
The civil servants are bemused as to why Hacker seems so concerned about the case. Sir Humphrey, for example, is questioned on the topic by Sir Ian Whitchurch, the Permanent Secretary of the DHSS:
SIR IAN:
So why is your Minister interested in St Edward’s Hospital?
SIR HUMPHREY:
Well, he’s apparently greatly concerned that it has no patients.
SIR IAN:
Takes all sorts.
SIR HUMPHREY:
Yes.
SIR IAN:
How can there be patients when it has no nursing staff?
SIR HUMPHREY:
Well, quite.
SIR IAN:
We’ve found at the DHSS that it takes time to get things going.
SIR HUMPHREY:
Yes.
SIR IAN:
First of all, you have to sort out the smooth running of the hospital. Having patients around would be no help at all.
SIR HUMPHREY:
No. They’d just be in the way.
Hacker, however, refuses to let the matter drop, regarding it as symbolic of the malaise that is afflicting this area of public policy. ‘The National Health Service, Humphrey, is an advanced case of galloping bureaucracy!’ Sir Humphrey tries to calm his Minister down – ‘Oh, certainly not galloping. A gentle canter at the most!’ – and explains that there is plenty to do at a hospital even when it is uncontaminated with sick people: ‘First there is the Contingency Department, for fire, strikes, air raids, nuclear war, epidemics, food or water poisoning’; ‘Then there is the Data and Research Department, who at this moment are conducting a full-scale demographic survey of the catchment area’; ‘Then, thirdly, there’s Finance, of course – projected accounts, balance sheets and cash flow budgets’; ‘Then there’s the Purchasing Department, for purchasing medical and other equipment’; ‘Fifth, there’s the Technical Department, for evaluating equipment’; ‘Sixth, there’s the Building Department, which deals with the Phase Three building plans, costing and so forth for the final phase of the hospital’; ‘And then there’s Maintenance, Cleaning and Catering, Personnel in charge of leave, National Health Insurance, salaries, as well as some Staff Welfare Officers, to look after the over five hundred employees’; ‘And, finally, Administration’.
Hacker, nonetheless, has the bit between his teeth and is adamant that this embarrassing anomaly will be rectified. He wants this hospital filled with doctors, nurses and patients.
He only gets even more enraged and amazed when, upon visiting the empty hospital, he encounters its Chief Administrator, Mrs Rodgers, who, as she proudly takes him on a tour of all the empty wards and crowded offices, appears just as happy as Sir Humphrey is with the current state of the place:
MRS RODGERS:
And this is J Theatre.
HACKER:
And how much does all this cost?
MRS RODGERS:
Together with radiotherapy and intensive care, two and a quarter million.
HACKER:
Doesn’t it appall you that it’s not being used?
> MRS RODGERS:
Oh, no, it’s a very good thing in some ways. It prolongs its life. Cuts down running costs.
HACKER:
But there are no patients!
MRS RODGERS:
No-o-o, but the essential work of the hospital still has to go on.
HACKER:
Aren’t patients the essential work of the hospital??
MRS RODGERS:
Oh, running an organisation of five hundred people is a big job, Minister.
HACKER:
But if they weren’t here they wouldn’t be here!
MRS RODGERS:
What?
HACKER:
No, this is wrong! It won’t do! Either you must get some patients into this hospital, or I shall close it!
MRS RODGERS:
Yes, well, Minister, in the course of time––
HACKER:
No, no, no! Not in the course of time, Mrs Rodgers. Now! Get rid of three hundred of your people, get some doctors and nurses and get some patients!
UNION REP:
Now, look here, without those three hundred people, this hospital just wouldn’t function!
HACKER:
You think it is functioning now?
MRS RODGERS:
Minister, it is one of the best-run hospitals in the country! It is up for the Florence Nightingale Award!
A Very Courageous Decision Page 19
