The Complete Yes Minister (35 page)

Humphrey argued again. ‘We
have
done something to deserve them. We are
civil servants
,’ he said.

‘You just like having letters to put after your name to impress people,’ I sneered. ‘You wouldn’t impress people if they knew what they stood for: KCB? Knight Commander of the Most Noble Order of the Bath? Bloody daft. They’d think you were a plumber. I think they should shove the whole lot down the Most Noble Order of the Plughole.’

Humphrey wasn’t at all amused. ‘Very droll,’ he said condescendingly. ‘You like having letters after your name too,’ he continued. ‘PC,
⁵
MP. And your degree – BSc.Econ., I think,’ he sneered and slightly wrinkled up his elegant nose as if there were a nasty smell underneath it.

‘At least I earned my degree,’ I told him, ‘not like your MA. At Oxford they give it to you for nothing, when you’ve got a BA.’

‘Not for nothing. For four guineas,’ he snapped spitefully.

I was tired of this juvenile bickering. And I had him on the run. I told him that I had made my policy decision and that was the end of it. ‘And what was your other point?’ I enquired.

Humphrey was in such a state of shock about the Honours List that he had forgotten his other point. But after a few moments it came back to him.

It seems that Baillie College, Oxford, will be in serious trouble over the new ruling on grants for overseas students.

Humphrey said that nothing would please Baillie more than to take British students. Obviously that’s true. But he explained that Baillie has easily the highest proportion of foreign students and that the repercussions will be serious at the schools of Tropical Medicine and International Law. And the Arabic Department may have to close down completely.

I’m sympathetic to all this, but hard cases make bad law. I just don’t see how it’s possible for us to go on educating foreigners at the expense of the British taxpayer.

‘It’s not just foreigners, Minister,’ explained Humphrey. ‘If, for instance, our Diplomatic Service has nowhere to immerse its recruits in Arab culture, the results could be catastrophic – we might even end up with a pro-Israeli Foreign Office. And what would happen to our oil policy then?’

I said that they could send their diplomatic recruits elsewhere.

‘Where else,’ he demanded, ‘can they learn Arabic?’

‘Arabia?’ I suggested.

He was stumped. Then Bernard chipped in. ‘Actually, Minister, Baillie College has an outstanding record. It has filled the jails of the British Empire for many years.’

This didn’t sound like much of a recommendation to me. I invited Bernard to explain further.

‘As you know,’ he said, ‘the letters JB are the highest honour in the Commonwealth.’

I didn’t know.

Humphrey eagerly explained. ‘Jailed by the British. Gandhi, Nkrumah, Makarios, Ben-Gurion, Kenyatta, Nehru, Mugabe – the list of world leaders is endless and contains several of our students.’

Our
students? He had said
our
students. It all became clear.

I smiled benignly. ‘Which college did you go to, Humphrey?’

‘Er . . . that is quite beside the point, Minister.’

He wasn’t having a very good day. ‘I like being beside the point, Humphrey,’ I said. ‘Humour me. Which college did you go to? Was it Baillie, by any strange coincidence?’

‘It so happens,’ he admitted with defiance, ‘that I am a Baillie man, but that has nothing to do with this.’

I don’t know how he has the face to make such a remark. Does he really think I’m a complete idiot? At that moment the buzzer went and saved Humphrey from further humiliation. It was the Division Bell. So I had to hurry off to the House.

On my way out I realised that I had to ask Bernard whether I was to vote ‘aye’ or ‘no’.

‘No,’ he replied and began to explain. ‘It’s an Opposition Amendment, the second reading of . . .’

But I had left by then. The man’s a fool. It doesn’t matter what the debate
is
, I just don’t want to go through the wrong door.

[
Meanwhile, rumours about Hacker’s plan to link economies with honours had travelled fast along the two major Whitehall grapevines – the private secretaries’ and the drivers’. It was only a matter of hours before news reached Sir Arnold Robinson, the Secretary to the Cabinet. Sir Humphrey was asked to drop in for a chat with Sir Arnold, and an illuminating interview followed – illuminating not only for Sir Humphrey, but also for historians who learn that although the Cabinet Secretary is theoretically
primus inter pares
⁶
he is in reality very much
primus.
It seems that all Permanent Secretaries are equal, but some are more equal than others
.

The notes that Sir Arnold made on Sir Humphrey’s report have been found among the Civil Service files at Walthamstow and were of course released some years ago under the Thirty-Year Rule
.

Sir Humphrey never saw these notes, because no civil servant is shown his own report, except in wholly unusual circumstances – Ed
.]

Told Appleby that I was a little bit worried about this idea of his Minister’s, linking Honours to economies.

Appleby said that he could find no effective arguments against this plan.

I indicated that we would regard it as the thin end of the wedge, a Bennite solution. I asked where it would end?

Appleby replied that he shared my views and had emphasised them to the Minister. He added, somewhat strangely, that the scheme was ‘intolerable but yet irresistible’.

I took a dim view. I informed Appleby that, while I was not in any sense reprimanding him, I wanted his assurance that this plan would not be put into practice.

He looked very shaken at the mention of no reprimand. [
Civil Service Code: the mere mention of a reprimand so high up the ladder is severe and deeply wounding criticism. It suggests that the Cabinet Secretary was flying in the face of the ‘Good Chap Theory’ – the theory that states that ‘A Good Chap Does Not Tell A Good Chap What A Good Chap Ought To Know.’ Sir Arnold was implying that Sir Humphrey was not a sufficiently good chap – Ed
.]

Appleby was unable to give me the assurance I required. He merely voiced a hope that Hacker would not be acting on this plan.

I was obliged to point out that hopes are not good enough. If honours were linked to economies in the DAA, the contagion could spread throughout government. To every department.

Again I invited him to say that we could count on him to scotch the scheme. He said he would try. Feeble! I was left with no alternative but to warn him most seriously that, although I was quite sure he knew what he was doing, this matter could cause others to reflect upon whether or not he was sound.

The poor chap seemed to take that very hard, as well he might!

Before I terminated the interview I mentioned that the Master of Baillie, our old college, had been on the phone, and that I was sure Appleby would make sure Hacker treated Baillie as a Special Case.

Appleby seemed no more confident on this matter either, although he said he had arranged for Hacker to be invited to a Benefactor’s Dinner.

I congratulated him on his soundness in this matter, which didn’t seem to cheer him up a great deal. I begin to think that Appleby is losing his grip – on Hacker at least.

Perhaps Appleby is not an absolutely first-rank candidate to succeed one as Cabinet Secretary. Not really able in every department. Might do better in a less arduous job, such as chairman of a clearing bank or as an EEC official.

A.R.

[
It is interesting to compare Sir Arnold’s report with Sir Humphrey’s own account of this interview – Ed
.]

Went over to see Arnold at the Cabinet Office. We got on very well, as usual. He was very concerned about Hacker’s idea of linking honours to economies, and almost as concerned about the future of Baillie College. I was on a sticky wicket, but on the whole I think I was able to reassure him that I’m handling these difficult problems as well as anybody could reasonably expect. [
Appleby Papers 31/RJC/638
]

[
Hacker’s diary resumes – Ed
.]

Today was the Benefactor’s Dinner at Baillie College, Oxford, which was, I think, an unqualified success.

For a start, on the way up to Oxford I learned a whole pile of useful gossip from young Bernard.

Apparently Sir Humphrey was summoned by the Cabinet Secretary yesterday and, according to Bernard, got the most frightful wigging. The Cabinet Secretary really tore him off a strip, because of Bernard’s brilliant scheme linking economies to honours.

Interestingly, Bernard continues to refer to it as
my
scheme – on this occasion, because we were in the official car and of course Roy [
the driver – Ed
.] was quietly memorising every word we said, for future buying and selling. No doubt he can sell news of Sir Humphrey’s wigging for quite a price in the drivers’ pool, though, it should be worth several small leaks in exchange, I should think. So Roy should have some useful snippets in two or three days, which I must remember to extract from him.

I asked Bernard how the Cabinet Secretary actually goes about giving a wigging to someone as high up as Humphrey.

‘Normally,’ Bernard informed me, ‘it’s pretty civilised. But this time, apparently, it was no holds barred. Sir Arnold told Sir Humphrey that he wasn’t actually reprimanding him!’

‘
That
bad?’

‘He actually suggested,’ Bernard continued, ‘that some people might not think Sir Humphrey was sound.’

Roy’s ears were out on stalks.

‘I see,’ I said, with some satisfaction. ‘A real punch-up.’

Sir Arnold was so bothered by this whole thing that I wondered if he had a personal stake in it. But I couldn’t see why. I presumed he must have his full quota of honours.

I asked Bernard if Arnold already had his G. Bernard nodded. [
You get your G after your K. G is short for Grand Cross. K is a Knighthood. Each department has its own honours. The DAA gets the Bath – Sir Humphrey was, at this time, a KCB, and would have been hoping for his G – thus becoming a Knight Grand Cross of the Bath
.

In the FCO the Honours are the Cross of St Michael and St George – CMG, KCMG, and GCMG. The Foreign Office is not popular throughout the rest of the Civil Service, and it is widely held that the CMG stands for ‘Call Me God’, the KCMG for ‘Kindly Call Me God’ and the GCMG for ‘God Calls Me God’ – Ed
.]

However, Bernard revealed that although Sir Arnold has indeed got his G, there are numerous honours to which he could still aspire: a peerage, for instance, an OM [
Order of Merit – Ed
.] or a CH [
Companion of Honour – Ed
.], the Order of the Garter, the Knight of the Thistle, etc.

I asked him about the Knight of the Thistle. ‘Who do they award the Thistle to, Scotsmen and donkeys?’ I enquired wittily.

‘There is a distinction,’ said Bernard, ever the diplomat.

‘You can’t have met the Scottish nationalists,’ I replied, quick as a flash. I wasn’t bothered by Roy’s flapping lugs. ‘How do they award the Thistle?’ I asked.

‘A committee sits on it,’ said Bernard.

I asked Bernard to brief me about this High Table dinner. ‘Does Humphrey
really
think that I will change government policy on University Finance as a result?’

Bernard smiled and said he’d heard Baillie College gives a very good dinner.

We got to Oxford in little over an hour. The M40 is a very good road. So is the M4, come to think of it. I found myself wondering why we’ve got two really good roads to Oxford before we got any to Southampton, or Dover or Felixstowe or any of the ports.

Bernard explained that nearly all of our Permanent Secretaries were at Oxford. And most Oxford Colleges give you a good dinner.

This seemed incredible – and yet it has the ring of truth about it. ‘But did the Cabinet let them get away with this?’ I asked.

‘Oh no,’ Bernard explained. ‘They put their foot down. They said there’d be no motorway to take civil servants to dinners in Oxford unless there was a motorway to take Cabinet Ministers hunting in the Shires. That’s why when the Ml was built in the fifties it stopped in the middle of Leicestershire.’

There seemed one flaw in this argument. I pointed out that the M11 has only just been completed. ‘Don’t Cambridge colleges give you a good dinner?’

‘Of course,’ said Bernard, ‘but it’s years and years since the Department of Transport had a Permanent Secretary from Cambridge.’

[
It is most interesting to compare Hacker’s account of the dinner with Sir Bernard Woolley’s recollections of the same event. First, Hacker’s version – Ed
.]

The dinner itself went off perfectly.

I knew they wanted to discuss their financial problems, so when we reached the port and walnuts I decided to open up Pandora’s box, let the cat out of the bag and get the ball rolling. [
Hacker never really learned to conquer his mixed metaphor problem – Ed
.] So I remarked that, for a college on the edge of bankruptcy we had not had a bad little dinner. In truth, of course, we’d had a wildly extravagant banquet with four courses and three excellent wines.