Yes Minister — Series 3 (Episodes 6-7) + Party Games

📺 YM 3.6, 3.7 + Christmas Special

注意

以下剧本来自字幕文件（SRT）转换，可能包含 OCR 错误。YM 第一季没有可用的字幕文件。

格式说明

🎬 = 场景提示  |  ■ Hacker  |  ■ Sir Humphrey  |  ■ Bernard  |  ■ 其他角色

---

A-hem! A-hem!
Bernard, is it important?
I must finish these Defence papers.
— This is more urgent, Minister.
— What is it?
Your Christmas cards, Minister.
They can't be postponed any longer.
— Eugh. Which is which?
— They're labelled.
These you sign Jim; these Jim Hacker; these
Jim and Annie; these Annie and Jim Hacker;
— these Love from Annie and Jim.
— And those?
Those are printed and those have cyclostyled
signatures so you needn't write anything.
Make sure none of them should have been
personally signed Jim or Jim Hacker
or Jim and Annie or Annie and Jim Hacker
or Love from Annie and Jim.
— What about those?
— Constituency cards. Your agent left them.
As you see, they've been divided up. Those
you sign Jim; those Jim Hacker; those Jim and...
Thank you, Bernard! I think I've got the gist.
— Is that it?
— Apart from the ones at Party headquarters.
— Party HQ? I didn't do those last year.
— You weren't Party Chairman last year.
Oh. Do I have to send this one?
— Why not?
— It's to Maurice in Brussels.
He forced through the plan
to standardise the Euro sausage.
Euro sausage?
Next year we'll be waving goodbye
to the good old British sausage,
forced to accept some foreign muck
like salami or bratwurst or something.
They can't stop us eating the British sausage!
They can stop us calling it a sausage.
It'll be called the emulsified high-fat offal tube!
And you swallowed it?
It's my job to implement EEC regulations.
It could finish my career.
— What have they got against our sausage?
— Don't you ever read the papers you give me?
I glanced at it, but it rather put me off.
Apparently, there's not enough meat in it.
"The average British sausage consists of
32.5% fat, 6.5% rind,
"20% water, 10% rusk, 5% seasoning,
preservative and colouring
"and only 26% meat,
"which is mostly gristle, head meat, other offcuts
"and mechanically-recovered meat...
"...steamed off the carcasses."
I don't feel particularly... I had one...
I had one for breakfast.
Perhaps the EEC commissioner is right.
He may be, but it'll be
extremely unpopular with the voters.
We shall just have to grit our teeth
and bite on the bullet.
You can't bite a bullet when gritting your teeth.
If you do that, you can't get a bullet...
Sorry.
By the way, you were going to advise me
what presents to get for the private office.
That's up to you. Bottles of sherry
for the assistant secretaries,
large boxes of mints for the diary secretary
and correspondence secretary
and small boxes of mints for the rest.
— What about my Personal Private Secretary?
— That's me.
— Ah, yes, of course! What should I give you?
— You don't have to give me anything.
— I know, but I'd like to.
— Oh, Minister...
— Well, anything, really.
— Such as?
Well, really I would like a surprise.
What sort of surprise should I give you?
A bottle of champagne is the customary surprise.
— What time is my meeting with Humphrey?
— That's been cancelled.
Sir Humphrey had an urgent meeting
with the Cabinet Secretary.
The Cabinet Secretary.
Always makes me feel rather nervous.
In some ways, Sir Arnold is
the most powerful chap in the country.
Permanent access to the PM, controls
Cabinet agenda, controls access to everything.
I wonder what he's up to?
— By the way, Humphrey...
— Yes?
I've decided to retire early.
Oh! Have you, Arnold?
In the New Year.
Ah...
My successor has to be someone
who can be firm with our political masters.
Absolutely. No nonsense with that lot!
— But tactful...
— Exactly.
— Suave, charming, emollient...
— And above all, sound.
Sound? Oh, yes, sound.
So my duty is to convey
a recommendation to the Prime Minister
as to which of the present Permanent
Secretaries best meets these stringent criteria.
And, er...
...Have you, er...
Er, er, is there, er... Does anyone, er...
You see, in this job, the problem isn't really
finding the answers, it's finding the questions.
We need the man who can find the key question.
By the way, Arnold,
to change the subject completely,
— what will you be doing when you retire?
— Ah, very good question!
— Very good question.
— There might be jobs you could pick up,
ways you could serve the country,
which your successor, whoever he might be,
could put your way -
er, persuade you to undertake!
I had been giving it some thought.
I'll be chairman of the Banque Occidentale
and there'll be directorships
of IBM and BP and so on.
— But I was thinking...
— Yes?
The Chairmanship of the Opera House Trust
will be coming up next year.
— Chairman of Covent Garden...
— And the chancellorship of Oxford.
The deputy chairmanship
of the Bank of England would be a...
...A challenge?
— A challenge, exactly.
And head of the Security Commission.
The presidency of the Anglo-Caribbean
Association would give one...
...a chance to be of service.
Precisely!
Especially during the winter months.
I'm sure any successor worth his salt
could arrange these.
Do you think so?
That's very reassuring, very reassuring.
But there is another thing.
Certain advice one may have given the Prime
Minister could, if it emerged, be misinterpreted.
— Er, what sort of advice?
— All sensible and reasonable,
but advice about using troops during strikes.
A very sensible precaution
that they should be armed,
but, taken out of context, machine guns...
Oh, I'm sure that need never come out.
And I did suggest negotiations with South Africa
about reactivating the Simonstown naval base.
Absolutely sensible strategically, of course,
and a great help with the Falklands,
but if one were in line for
Secretary-General of the Commonwealth...
Embarrassing. And you would be in line
to be Secretary-General of the Commonwealth.
Would I? How gratifying!
And I'm sure that the right successor would see
no problem in keeping those files under wraps.
Good.
Anyway, to get back to our original point,
I think my colleagues and I can see our way
forward to placing your name top of the list.
I see.
May I ask how many other names
will be on the list?
Oh, I don't think there's anyone else
who's up to scratch.
Have another drink.
By the way, I've accepted the presidency
of the Campaign for Freedom of Information.
Freedom of Information?! What on earth for?
Well, it's very popular with the Opposition, and
today's Opposition is tomorrow's government,
and it will mean one can ensure
that the freedom is not abused.
So, here's to the continuity of sound government.
And freedom of information.
— Whenever it's in the national interest.
— Oh, yes!

🎬 [HE HUMS]

— Minister, I have some very grave news.
— Yes, Humphrey?
The relationship, which I might tentatively aver
has been not without a degree of reciprocal
utility, and even occasional gratification,
is approaching a point of irreversible bifurcation
and, to be brief,
is in the propinquity
of its ultimate, regrettable, termination.
I see.
— I'm... on my way out.
— What?
There comes a time when one has to accept
what fate has in store, when one passes on...
Passes on?!
...to pastures new, perhaps greener...
...and places oneself finally in the service
of one who is greater than any of us.
— Humphrey, I'm so sorry!
— Thank you, Minister.
— Does Lady Appleby know?
— She's suspected it for some time.
— When did they tell you?
— This afternoon.
— How long do they give you?
— Just a few weeks.
Weeks?!
It'll give me enough time to sort everything out.
Humphrey, you're so terribly brave!
One is a little anxious. One is always wary of
the unknown, but I have faith I'll muddle through.
Minister, what's the matter?
I'm sorry, Humphrey.
It's just we've had our ups and downs, but...
Oh, Minister, don't take on so!
We'll still see one another regularly.
— Yes, once a week at least.
— What?
— I haven't told you where I'm going yet.
— Eh?
I have been appointed Secretary to the Cabinet.
— Secretary to the Cabinet?
— Why, what did you think?
I... I thought... I thought...
Sorry about crying.
I'm not myself today, a little tired.
Overwrought. Things have been, you know...
I am so sorry.
Perhaps as Cabinet Secretary designate
I should suggest some lightening of the load...
— No, no. Don't misunderstand me. I'm fine, fine!
— Good, good.
— So, you're going to be Cabinet Secretary.
— Yes.
— Cabinet Secretary!
— Mm-hmm.
— Secretary to the Cabinet!
— YES!
— That's a great honour. Congratulations.
— Thank you.
— 'Course, that means that you and I...
— Alas, yes.
— How shall I manage?
— Probably even better without me.
Yes, I probably... No, no, certainly not, no!
So you're going to do for the Prime Minister
what you've always done to me.
For me!
PM's right-hand man.
— Advising on issues.
— Quite so.
And, er, and people, no doubt.
Minister?
— Humphrey...
— Yes, Minister?
I want you to know
I think you've been absolutely wonderful.
Highest admiration for all you've done.
Wonderful work. Wonderful work.
— Finest tradition of the service.
— Minister, you're too kind.
I just hope you feel that I... In my...
When things are... Well, it...
If it should come up, er...
I think we've made
a jolly good team here, you and I?
— I couldn't have wished for a better Minister.
— Humphrey, you're too kind!
When are you going to tell the staff?
On Friday evening, just before it's promulgated.
— I will bid them farewell at the Christmas party.
— That will certainly make it a happy occasion!
— And sad.
— Sad, yes, sad.
Terribly sad.
— Enjoying yourself?
— Yes, thank you, Minister.
— Enjoying yourself?
— Yes, Minister. Lovely party.
— Yes, it's frightfully good fun.
— Always good to let your hair down.
Right, now I think it's time I said a few words.
This is a very, very special occasion for us all.
Peace on Earth, goodwill to all men.
Sorry, persons!
It's always good to have this little get-together
amongst the people who've served me, er...
...worked with me... for me... no, with me
here at the Department of Adminis...
...Ministry of Administr...
...at the DAA.
We're a team, like the Cabinet,
except we're all on the same side...
Not that the Cabinet...
Well, I meant... really, the shadow Cabinet.
Let's keep politics out of this. Season of goodwill.
That's why Parliament doesn't sit over Christmas!
Season of goodwill. Even to one's officials!
Well, what can I say? Humphrey.

[BERNARD]
Sir Humphrey Appleby!

[ALL]
Sir Humphrey Appleby!
Thank you. I'd just like to thank you all for
all the hard work you've done all these years.
An occasion like this engenders a certain
emotional ambiguity and personal ambivalence.
— What's he ambigulous about?
— While one is, one should say,
honoured by the cause of one's departure,
one is saddened by the fact of it -
in particular, saddened to leave the service of
a Minister without parallel in one's experience.
I say, that's jolly decent.
— A unique partnership.
— Absolutely unique.
So I should end by wishing
a happy Christmas to you all,
but in particular to a Minister whom,
in the brief time we've had him with us
we've watched grow in standing,
stature and sureness of touch.
So, seasonal felicitations to you all,
but please, please, do remember
the Home Secretary's campaign for the holiday:
Don't drink and drive this Christmas.
I'll drink to that! ...Oh, dear, I'm sorry!
— I do wish you'd let me drive, Jim.
— I'm driving perfectly stably.
True, but we have to get home before dawn!
Good evening, Cinstable. Happy Crispsmas.
— May I see your licence, sir?
— Certainly.
— Aren't you Mr Jim Hacker?
— That's right.
— What seems to be the trouble?
— Any reason you were driving so slowly?
I didn't want the kerb to hit me...
I didn't want to hit the kerb.
Look, I've got a silver badge somewhere.
— I see. Perhaps Constable Evans can drive you.
— It's all right, Officer. I'll drive.
OK, Mrs Hacker.
If you're in a proper state to drive.
I don't drink, Officer.
Well, not when my husband's driving.
Nor do I, hardly.
— There we are.
— Nice little place you have here, Humphrey.
— Thank you.
— You handled your first Cabinet meeting well.
— What was it like sitting next to the PM?
— Do sit down, Minister.
I've asked you to drop in for a coffee because
the Home Office informs me of a traffic incident.
Oh.
— Yes, I see.
— It's entirely your own affair...
— Precisely.
— But the PM takes a grave view.
— He feels Ministers should set an example.
— You're not ticking me off, are you?
Far be it from me, I'm only a servant
of the Cabinet, a humble functionary.
But I need to assure the Home Office
it won't occur again.
— What do they give us silver badges for?
— It's a very special privilege, Minister.
It allows us to pass through police cordons
and park in prohibited areas and so forth.
It is not to protect drunks who drive cars.
I will not be lectured by a functionary,
even one as humble as your good self.
— I'm a Minister of the Crown.
— Yes, of course. I do apologise.
I will inform the Crown of the incident
if that is your wish.
I...
Now I think of it,
you can tell the Home Office I take the point.
— Thank you, Minister.
— Does the Home Secretary himself know?
It hardly matters.
I'm afraid the Home Secretary
has not been as lucky as you were,
which is why he wasn't at Cabinet.
As you're aware, he initiated this
"Don't drink and drive at Christmas" campaign
and ordered the police to "get tough".
Well, unfortunately...
...he, too, was picked up last night
for drunken driving in his own constituency.
Have you seen the first edition of the Standard?
— Where on earth was his security man?
— He'd given him the slip.
You know how cunning these drunks can be.
Couldn't they have hushed it up?
Silver badge job?
His case was rather different. He caused
a lorry to overturn. It was full of nuclear waste.
Then he rebounded from the lorry into a private
car driven by the editor of a local newspaper.
Oh, no.
— Inevitably, it leaked out.
— The nuclear waste?
No, the story.
— The Home Secretary will have to resign.
— Alas, yes.
— What will happen to him?
— Well...
I gather he was as drunk as a lord, so after a
discreet interval, they'll probably make him one!
He's obviously been held up.
You can stamp some cards if you like.
— Aren't they to constituents?
— Yes.
That's not government business, that's political
activity. I'm not allowed to help with that.
— If they're to journalists?
— That'd be OK.
— They're to journalists.
— Fine.
I suppose licking is an essential part
of relationships with the press.
— I hear the reshuffle is about to be announced.
— It may be on the news.
I like to watch the news. It's my best chance
of finding out where Jim is.
[NEWSREADER]... There was no question of
American military personnel getting involved.
We've j'ust had a newsflash
from Number 10 Downing Street.
The Prime Minister
is to retire early in the New Year.
He does not want to serve
in another Parliament,
giving his successor a good run-up
to the next election.
We'll bring you further news as soon as we can.

[ALL]
Have you heard?

[ALL]
Yes!
— The emergency Cabinet meeting was to tell us.
— Why so suddenly?
He said to give his successor a good run-up to
the next election, so that can't be the reason.
— Why, then?
— Some extraordinary rumours are going about.
The left say he's a secret CIA agent.
— The right say he's a secret KGB agent.
— Minister, I've heard something quite different,
that there is �1 million-worth of diamonds
from South Africa in a Downing Street safe,
— but it's only a rumour.
— Is that true?
Yes.
So, there ARE all those diamonds
in Downing Street!
— Are there?
— You said there were!
— I didn't.
— You did!
— I said is the rumour true, you said yes!
— True it's a rumour.
— You heard it was true!
— True I heard it!
— Sorry to cut in, but do you believe it?
— I believe I heard it.
— Oh, about the diamonds? No.
— Is it impossible?
No, but it's never been officially denied.
First rule of politics:
Never believe anything until it's officially denied.
— Will there be a general election?
— There's no need.
The majority's big enough.
We'll just choose a new leader.
— Do you want the job?
— Me? No chance!
It'll either be Eric or Duncan.
It should have been Ray. He was Deputy Leader.
But as he's had to resign as Home Secretary...
— Of course! That's why the PM resigned!
— [BERNARD] Why?
He's always hated Ray. He just hung on
to make sure his deputy didn't get the leadership!
Like Attlee and Morrison.
So the resignation is to give time for
the new leader to be run in before the election?
— Now that the Home Secretary's been run in!
— Eric wants my support for the leadership.
He could be the right man.
He's been a fairly successful Chancellor.
I've already indicated that I'm... on his side.
— What about Duncan?
— Yes, Duncan could be the man.
He's done fairly well at the Foreign Office.
— I think I'll support Duncan.
— You're supporting Eric AND Duncan?
It's all very well, but if I support Eric
and Duncan gets it, that's it.
— If I support Duncan and Eric gets it, that's it.
— Don't support either!
— Whoever gets it, that's it.
— So who are you supporting?
Duncan.
Or Eric.
Duncan's so divisive.
It really would be for the good of the party,
— the good of the country...
— Eric, I don't see how I can.
Your support would be crucial.
You're universally popular...
— I don't know...
— Good public image...
— Yes...
— Regarded as sound.
— Am I?
— So, if you put your weight behind me...
You see my problem as chairman of the party.
— What would happen if Duncan got it? Disaster!
— Well...
Tell you what.
I wouldn't keep him at the Foreign Office.
I'd look for a new Foreign Secretary.
But as I said, I must appear impartial.
But if there could be ways of hinting
at my support for you...
...in a perfectly impartial way...
— But Duncan, as chairman of the party...
— As such you carry even more weight.
You haven't got any real enemies.
Not yet, anyway.
But it's my job to be impartial.
— If Eric got into Number 10 it'd be catastrophic.
— Yes...
Jim, we're on the same side, aren't we?
— Yes.
— Good.
I'm going to win and I never forgive people
who let me down.
I can't make my support too public.
It doesn't have to be public,
just so long as everybody knows.
Then when I'm in Number 10,
and Eric's in Northern Ireland...
— we know who'll be the next Chancellor, don't we?
— Do we?
You mean...?
Unless you fancy Northern Ireland yourself?
How are things
at the Campaign for the Freedom of Information?
Sorry, I can't talk about that.
So, will the new PM be our eminent Chancellor,
or our distinguished Foreign Secretary?
Well, which do you think it should be?
Difficult. Like asking which lunatic
should run the asylum.
Trouble is, they're both interventionists,
with notions about running the country themselves
— if they became PM.
— Have we any allies?
Quite a few, the Chief Whip particularly.
He's worried that whichever gets the job
will antagonise the other's supporters
— and split the party.
— So we need a compromise candidate.
Hmm. Malleable.
— Flexible.
— Likeable.
— No firm opinions.
— No bright ideas.
— Not intellectually committed.
— No strength of purpose to change anything.
Someone who can be
manipulated, professionally guided.
And leave the business of government
in the hands of the experts.
Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear!
It's impossible.
Why? A lot of the government
would welcome a less-interventionist leader.
— Not the other two candidates!
— They might be persuaded.
— What, to stand aside?
— Yes. Have you seen their Ml5 files?
— No.
— Always send for Cabinet Ministers' Ml5 files
if you enjoy a good laugh!
— Oh, Bernard.
— Sir.
— Just...
— Thank you very much.
— Do sit down.
— Thank you.
— Happy New Year, by the way.
— Thank you.
Right.
So...
...this is our very last piece of DAA business.
— Yes, I'm afraid so, Sir Humphrey.
Ah, well.
Bernard, just let me ask you something.
What would you say to your present master...
...as the next Prime Minister?
— The Minister?
— Yes.
— Mr Hacker?
— Yes.
— As Prime Minister?
— Yes.
— Are you in a hurry?
— Just checking it's not April 1st.
Are you suggesting your Minister
is not up to the job of Prime Minister?
Oh, no, Sir Arnold, it's not for me to, er...
Well, I mean...
Of course, I'm... I'm sure he's, er...
Oh, gosh!
There is a body of opinion
that sees many advantages in the appointment.
— For Britain.
— Yes, well, yes...
— So we trust you
to ensure your Minister does nothing incisive
or divisive over the next few weeks.
— Avoids anything controversial.
— Expresses no firm opinion about anything.
— Now, is that quite clear?
— I think that's what he was planning anyway.
What's it all for, Bernard? What are we all doing?
What does it all mean?
I didn't read theology, Minister.
The waste of it all.
Take that EEC reception last night.
Humphrey introduced me to an official
who pays farmers to produce surplus food
and then he introduced me to another official
who pays others to destroy all the surpluses.
Then they pay thousands of bureaucrats
to push masses of paper round to make it all work.
— Doesn't the futility of it all depress you?
— Not really. I'm a civil servant.
I've been talking to Eric and Duncan.
I think I've promised to support Eric's candidature.
— I see.
— Then I think I promised to support Duncan's.
— That sounds very even-handed, Minister.
— But I can't keep both promises. Sherry?
— Thank you. They were only political promises.
— Yes... What do you mean?
I mean, like your manifesto promises,
people understand.
Yes.
Trouble is, I can't remember either of them
making any categorical promises to me.
— Then you have no problem.
— I have. I've still to decide who to support.
It's not just picking the winner.
My support could tip the balance.
The question is, do I want to be Foreign
Secretary or Chancellor of the Exchequer?
— Neither, do you?
— Why not?
They're both such terrible jobs!
You're talking about two
of the top three Cabinet jobs.
I realise that.
— As a civil servant, you don't understand politics.
— Sorry.
To be a success, you have to be in the limelight.
You have a very high profile as Chancellor of
the Exchequer, and that has to be good for votes.
— You see now, don't you?
— But with respect, Minister...
The Chancellor is Mr Killjoy.
Raising taxes on beer and cigarettes
and cutting down public spending
goes down badly with the electorate.
Maybe I don't want to be Chancellor
of the Exchequer. There's no escape in that job.
No, Minister. Unless you're sent to the Foreign
and Commonwealth Office as a punishment.
— Punishment?
— It's an even worse job.
— No votes in Foreign Affairs?
— Exactly.
The FCO loves foreigners,
but the British people don't.
Quite.
As far as world politics goes,
the Foreign Office is an irrelevance.
We've no real power.
We're just an American missile base!
Yes, Minister.
Between the devil and the deep blue sea.
Unless... Of course, there is one other option.
— What other option?
— Do the middle job.
Middle job? What, Home Secretary? Responsible
for all the muggings, jailbreaks and race riots?
— No, thank you!
— No, be the one who takes all the credit.
What do you mean? You mean...?
You don't mean...?
You do mean...?
How's it all looking from the Chief Whip's office?
If Eric gets it
we'll have a party split in three months.
If it's Duncan, it'll take three weeks.
Geoffrey, the PM's asked me
to take you into my confidence.
I shouldn't be telling you this, but there are,
how shall I say, security question marks
over both the current candidates.
— What question marks?
— Alas, I can say no more.
The only person I can disclose this to
in the PM's absence,
and as it is essentially a party matter,
is the chairman of the party.
— Jim Hacker.
— He's promised to join us.
But in the meantime, do you think the party
can find a compromise candidate?
— Could be any one of half a dozen.
— Have you considered the party chairman?
Jim Hacker?!
Jim Hacker...
Yes, it is possible, isn't it?
After all, there have been
less likely Prime Ministers.
Yes...
Who?
Oh, there must have been!

🎬 [BUZZER]

Yes? Oh, all right. Send him in.
Minister, so good of you to call.
— Henry.
— Morning.
Do sit down. Minister...
...I have a problem and I need your help.
Oh, dear! Can't you run the country on your own?
— It is a rather grave matter, I'm afraid.
— Yes, of course.
It's to do with the leadership election. The PM
felt we had no alternative but to call you in.
That bad, eh?
There are certain items of confidential information
which, while in theory might be susceptible
of innocent interpretation,
do nevertheless contain
a sufficient element of ambiguity,
so that were they to be presented
in a less than generous manner,
might be a source
of great embarrassment and even hazard
were they to impinge upon the deliberations
of an office of more than usual sensitivity.
I'm sorry?
— He's talking about security question marks.
— Security? What do you mean?
— Secrets.
— I know what security means.
— But what do you mean?
— I'm not allowed to know.
— Why not?
— Security.
So, since in the PM's absence
you are deputising on party matters,
may I show you the security file
on the Chancellor of the Exchequer?
Technically, I can't show you any of it, but, er...
...under the circumstances,
I feel I can show you relevant items.
Here's a summary of the reports
from the security services.
Special Branch...
There we are.
Interview with his driver.
And the PM's confidential memo.
— Strictest secrecy, of course.
— Of course.
Dirty old...!
You wouldn't have thought he had the time,
a workaholic like Eric.
I've found that people who are highly active
in one area of life
tend to be equally active in all the others.
You wouldn't think he went in for...
I understand the current expression
is horizontal jogging, Minister.
All this was some time ago
and it doesn't seem very conclusive.
That's why the PM thought it all right
for him to be Chancellor.
But the Yugoslavian one
and the two South Africans,
not to mention the shady lady from Argentina...
— And it's thought she's just a cover anyway.
— Cover? What for?
Good heavens!
If all these ladies were just covers,
what on earth were his real requirements?
— I really can't tell you.
— Ooh!
So it was thought that Defence
and the Foreign Office might be too delicate.
— I can see that!
— Then, if he were PM...
he'd be head of security services as well.
It's unthinkable.
— You're saying it's got to be Duncan.
— I was coming to that. This is his file.
Special Branch again.
Then we have the Fraud Squad...
Inland Revenue...
Secret auditors' reports, Bank of England
foreign exchange division...
How much do you want?
All this was technically legal at the time, wasn't it?
Yes, it may have been technically, but it ruled
him out of consideration for the Treasury.
How did they get all this - Ml5?
Er, well, let's just say
it's all been gone into quite enough.
Like the shady lady!
— Isn't it all astounding, all this?
— I don't know. I haven't seen it!
— Humphrey, don't think me foolish...
— Oh, Minister, perish the thought!
— Forgive me, Geoffrey. Why are you here?
— We dare not allow these scandals.
If they are so embarrassing,
it would embarrass the country and the party
if either of them became head of government.
— We can't be caught with our trousers down.
— Like Eric!
I see.
Yes, this is serious.
— Very serious.
— What could happen if one them became PM?
— Something very serious indeed.
— Very serious.
— I see.
— Serious repercussions...
...of the utmost seriousness.
Yes, that is serious.
In fact, I would go so far as to say
that it could hardly be more serious.
Well, I think we're all agreed, then, this is serious.
Yes.
What happens now?
The party needs to agree
on another candidate, quick.
— The Chief Whip wondered if you had any ideas.
— As you're Party Chairman.
Well, it's rather difficult.
You're looking for somebody with outstanding
qualities, a potential Prime Minister.
— Someone who's sound.
— Yes.
Likeable.
Flexible.
Yes. Normal.
— Solvent.
— Yes.
And acceptable to both wings of the party.
And someone who understands
how to take advice, Minister.
Yes. Well...
Gosh! Who can I suggest?
— Have you thought of doing the job yourself?
— Me?!
— Why not?
— Wouldn't you want to be Prime Minister?
I'd love to be, but... It's a very big job.
I'm not sure I could. Prime Minister!
Perhaps the Minister feels
he's not absolutely Prime Ministerial calibre.
— There isn't any doubt about that, Humphrey.
— No, not in my mind. But you seem hesitant.
Modesty forbids.
But I have no doubt I can do the job.
— Modestly put, Minister.
— There's only one fly in the ointment.
You're a bit of an outsider. Can you organise
some public success in the next few days?
A tall order.
I'm up to my neck in the Euro sausage!
Won't it be enough to start campaigning,
let people know I want the job?
Quite the reverse!
Better to let people know you DON'T want it.
— Would that be enough?
— If you tell everybody that, yes.
Leave the campaigning to me.
Say you have no ambitions in that direction.
Yes. But supposing somebody says,
"Does that mean you refuse to stand?"
— You know how the media try to trap you.
— Minister, it's not my place, but, er,
previously the acceptable answer has been,
"While one does not seek the office,
"one has pledged oneself
to the service of one's country,
"and if one's friends were to persuade one
that was the best way one could serve,
"one might have to accept the responsibility
whatever one's own private wishes might be."
"...private wishes might be."
Yes, I think I've got that.
So, it's a three-way election, then.
Ideally, it should be an unopposed election.
Unity sits well with the public.
— The party will welcome that.
— Eric and Duncan won't!
Eric and Duncan must be persuaded to withdraw.
— Oh. You mean you'll have a word with them.
— I can't. I haven't seen the files.
— Humphrey, then.
— No, it's an internal party matter.
— It would be most improper.
— Well, who...
You don't mean...?
— I can't!
— No one else can.
You want me to tell one of my colleagues
he's a swindler and the other he's a pervert!
Not in so many words! Say you don't believe
they've done anything wrong.
— Just let them know you know something.
— They'll tell me to mind my own business!
Then you say, as Chairman, it's your duty to see
the information reaches those who need to know.
The Party Executive, major contributors,
elder statesmen, patrons, the Palace, perhaps.
Tell each of them
they have no alternative but to pull out
and support someone who will protect them.
You want me to protect them?
It's nobody else's business
as long as security's not involved.
— I don't have the stomach for the task.
— You have no choice now that you know.
Nobody else knows that I know.
Let's just forget all about it!
— That would be very courageous.
— Courageous? Why?
If anything were to happen and it later emerged
you had the information and suppressed it...
— You mean you'd leak it?
— Covering up for your chums...
Greater love hath no man than this,
that he should lay down his career.
Humphrey, you're threatening me!
No, Minister, I'm helping you.
You see, Jim, there's one other quality
Prime Ministers need.
The killer instinct.
Yes.
Ah, thanks.
— Well, here's to Number 10, eh?
— Thanks... I mean, yes.
What's up, Jim?
Duncan...
...I have a problem.
— You're not going to support me.
— Yes. No.
— Yes, no?
Exactly.
Some information has come my way.
— Oh, yes?
— Serious information.
— Concerning your personal... financial operations.
— I beg your pardon?
— About the collapse of Continental and General.
— That was just bad luck.
The transfer of funds
to directors' nominee companies.
— There's nothing wrong with that.
— Technically, but...
...in conjunction with a similar case
at Offshore Securities?
— Where did you get all this?
— Sorry, but if you're running for PM
I shall feel obliged to share what I know
with senior party members.
If it came out into the open, there'd have to be
an enquiry by the Inland Revenue, Fraud Squad.
None of that need matter
if it's all above-board.
And I'm sure it is, if you say so, Duncan.
— There was nothing improper.
— Good, then I'm free to talk about it,
— bring it all out into the open.
— Hold on!
Financial matters can be misinterpreted.
People will misunderstand.
How true.
Look, Jim, I'm not sure
that I really want Number 10.
The Foreign Office is a better job in many ways.
But I won't support Eric.
Suppose Eric didn't get it?
How would it be if you were to transfer
all your support to someone else?
Who?
It would have to be somebody
who recognised your qualities,
who'd want you to stay at the Foreign Office.
Someone who could be discreet
about Continental and General.
Someone you could trust.
An old friend.
Do you mean you?
Me? I have absolutely no ambition
in that direction.
You DO mean you!
— I see.
— You do realise this is serious, Eric?
— Yes. And you're not going to help me, right?
— Yes.
— You are or you're not?
— Yes.
— Jim!
— I'm going to help you, but not to become PM.
— You said you were.
— Until I heard about the lady from Argentina.
— And others.
— I see.
As Party Chairman I have my duty.
It'd be a disaster for the party
if you became PM and all this came out.
I wouldn't care to have to explain it
to Her Majesty.
Would you?
I'll withdraw.
I think that's very sensible.
So we'll say no more about it to anyone.
Thanks, Jim.
— So Duncan will get Number 10. My God!
— Not if I can help it.
— Who, then?
— Cheers.
— You don't mean YOU?
— Me?
Our children are reaching the age where Annie
and I are hoping to spend more time together.
You DO mean you!
— Minister.
— Humphrey, what's the hurry?
I've arranged a brief meeting
with the European Commissioner.
Maurice? He flew out this morning.
— His flight's been delayed.
— So?
We might persuade him
to solve our sausage problem.
— How?
— [PHONE RINGS]
Excuse me... Yes?
Oh, yes, ask him to come in, will you?
Thank you.
Leave it to me.
Just, er, just give me support when I ask for it.
— Ah, Maurice, how nice to see you.
— Humphrey.
— You know each other.
— Jim, to what do I owe this pleasure?
The Minister asked me to arrange this meeting
— to see if you could help us with a problem.
— Problem.
Of course.
The problem is that the EEC
is becoming very unpopular over here.
— Isn't that so?
— Very unpopular.
— You want to restore its image?
— Yes.
— No.
The Minister feels there would be more votes...
...that he would be better expressing
the views of the British people
by joining the attack on the EEC
rather than leaping to its defence.
— Exactly.
— But your party's committed to support us!
The Minister's point, as I understand it,
is that the commitment
is to the concept and the treaty.
— Treaty.
— It's not committed to the institutions,
nor to the practices, nor to individual policies.
The Minister was giving me an example
the other day, weren't you, Minister?
— About food production.
— Oh, yes.
I've discovered one of your officials
pays farmers to produce masses of surplus food
while the next office pays people
to destroy the surpluses.
— That's not true!
— No?
It's not the next office, not even the same floor!
— The Minister has hundreds of similar examples.
— Hundreds.
The nub of the problem is, the Minister is
starting to think that a member of the Cabinet
ought to start telling
the British people about them.
But that would be intolerable!
Even the Italians wouldn't stoop that low!
The Italians aren't being asked to redesignate
salami as emulsified high-fat offal tubing.
Ah!
And what are you proposing?
After all, we are committed to harmonisation.
We cannot call it a sausage.
What do you suggest?
Well, politics is about presentation.
Why don't we call it "the British sausage"?
British sausage? Saucisse Anglaise.
Salsiccia Inglese. Britisherwurst.
Yes, I think we could...
recommend that to the Commission.
Splendid!
The Minister's always said the EEC
is a splendid institution, haven't you?
Splendid!
— The European correspondents are here now.
— Good. Let 'em in.
Send them in.
— This is about the Euro sausage problem?
— That's right, Bernard.
— That you've solved it.
— No, Bernard.
Solved problems aren't news.
To the press, bad news is good news.
I'm not going to give them a non-story today.
I'll give them a disaster today
— and a triumph tomorrow.
— I see.
— Good morning, gentlemen!
— [ALL] Morning.
Do sit down. Good of you to come.
This is on a lobby basis, non-attributable.
We've got some trouble coming up with Brussels.
Somebody's going to tell you some time,
so I might as well tell you myself.
The trouble is, Brussels is about
to make the British sausage illegal
— under EEC regulations.
— Minister...
...not making the sausage illegal, just the name.
— Thank you, Bernard. I'll deal with that later.
— What do you mean, "illegal"?
— Effectively illegal.
The pork sausage will have to contain
75% lean pork. The same for the beef sausage.
75% lean pork too?
75% lean beef.
— It would make it a luxury food.
— When's this being promulgated?
Next month, probably. They'll deny it, probably
tell you they're just discussing changing its name.
— What is the government going to do?
— I just don't know.
It's a big problem.
I won't pretend we've got an answer.
Well, I must rush. Any more questions?
— When can we use this?
— Tomorrow, as far as I'm concerned.
Bernard will give you a drink
in the press office. Thanks for coming.
You realise the press will be printing
something that isn't true?
Really?
How frightful!

(RADl0)
Today's story about the proposed
European ban on the British sausage
has caused a maj'or political storm.
Westminster sources say the sausage
could be another banana skin.
It adds to the government's problems
with the succession.
Members are troubled by the fact that
the two obvious candidates for the leadership
represent the extreme wings of the party.
Pressure is mounting for them to withdraw
in favour of a compromise candidate.
No other contender
seems to have caught the public imagination.
— Now sport...
— Turn it off, Donald.
— Is it true about the compromise candidate?
— I believe so.
— Where DO they get their information?
— I can't imagine, Bernard!
Anyway, I never said compromise.
I said moderate.
Incidentally, why are BBC TV and ITN
covering your speech this evening?
I can't imagine, Bernard.
I know that fire and safety policy in government
buildings is awfully important, but...
Maybe someone suggested
I was going to raise other issues as well.
— Who?
— I can't imagine, Bernard.
I am a good European.
I believe in the European ideal.
Never again shall we repeat the bloodshed
of the two world wars.
Europe is here to stay.
But this does not mean that
we have to bow the knee to every directive
from every little bureaucratic Bonaparte
in Brussels.
We are a sovereign nation still.
We are British and proud of it!
We have made enough concessions
to the European Commissar for Agriculture.
When I say Commissar, I use the word advisedly.
We've swallowed the wine lake
and the butter mountain,
we've watched our French friends
beating up British lorry drivers
carrying British lamb to the French.
We have bowed and scraped, doffed our caps,
tugged our forelocks and turned the other cheek,
but I say enough is enough!
The Europeans have gone too far.
They are now threatening the British sausage.
They want to standardise it, by which they mean
they'll force us to eat salami and bratwurst
and other garlic-ridden greasy foods
that are totally alien to the British way of life.
Do you want salami for breakfast
with your egg and bacon? I don't! I won't!
They've turned our pints into litres
and our yards into metres.
We gave up the tanner, the threepenny bit,
the two-bob piece and the half crown,
but they cannot and WILL not
destroy the British sausage.
Not while I'm here!
In the words of Martin Luther, here I stand.
I can do no more.
— Strong stuff, Minister.
— I feel strongly about it.
I sometimes wonder whether you media people
realise how strongly we others feel
about Britain, about our country.
We love it and we're proud of it.
You're at odds with government policy
over the EEC?
I'm very happy with government policy,
Sir Ludovic.
Just a guess. But it's never been government
policy to abolish the British sausage.
Sausages are not only good to eat,
they're full of top-quality nourishment.
Brussels denies wanting
to abolish the British sausage.
They would. They know what they're up against.
They know the strength of British opinion.
Your speech got a lot of coverage
and a lot of praise.
— Was there any significance in the timing?
— Sorry?
Your party is looking for a new leader
and your name's been mentioned a few times.
Oh. Quite a lot, I believe.
But no, I've no ambitions at all in that direction.
So you definitely won't let your name go forward?
Well, Ludo... All I've...
All I've ever wanted to do is serve my country.
I've never sought office.
But if my colleagues persuaded me the best
place to serve it from was 10 Downing Street,
I might perhaps reluctantly be persuaded
to undertake the responsibility
whatever my own private wishes might be.
If you're not in the running, who will you vote for?
Well, it's far too early to say. But I will say this.
This is a time for healing.
A time to stress what we agree about,
not what we disagree about.
We should be looking for the good
in our opponents, not always looking for faults.
There's good in everyone, you know, Ludo.
— Except the French!
— Except...
Even the French.
Minister, a message came from Central House
while you were in committee.
Yes?
— They brought the party meeting forward.
— Brought it forward?
The committee will decide if they're going to
bring up another candidate to oppose you.
— The Chief Whip will phone as soon as it's over.
— W-W-Will he... W-What will they... What if...
Which phone?
— What?
— Which phone will he ring on?
Oh. Er, this one, probably.
Or this one.
Either, really.
If Duncan and Eric withdraw,
which they will, they might not support me.
— That means an election.
— You're the favourite candidate for both sides,
— so you'll be unopposed.
— That's what they say.
Oh, well... No point in worrying about it.
— Might as well sit down and relax.
— [PHONE RINGS]
Yes?
Yes.
Bernard has an urgent message.
Minister, the Palace have been on the phone.
— The Palace? Why?
— Will you be free to kiss hands at five o'clock?
In the event of an unopposed recommendation.
Well, I...
I think I might be able to make that.
Bernard...
Supposing... You know if I...
Er...
I'd still want a Principal Private Secretary.
— Do you think, er...
— Oh, Minister.
Gosh!
— That'll be all right, won't it, Humphrey?
— Well...
The Prime Minister's word is law.

🎬 [PHONE RINGS]

Yes?
Yes.
Yes, he's here.
I'll tell him.
It... It... It... Is...
Is it me?
Yes, Prime Minister!
What time is he coming?
Any time. Should be here now.
— Perhaps something's happened to him.
— You think he's missed his bus?
No, no, no.
I mean something may have... happened.
Who is he, exactly?
All I know is he's an army officer with something
to tell me he wouldn't divulge on the phone.
— It's probably nothing.
— Perhaps.
Remember Churchill, the wilderness years?
He found out about our military inadequacy
from army officers.
So while he was in the wilderness
he could leak stories to the press
and embarrass the government. I could do that!
But you're IN the government.
Oh, yes!

🎬 [DOORBELL]

I'll get it.
— Major Saunders?
— Yes, sir.
Come in.
Follow me.
— It's all right. My wife, Annie.
— Good evening.
— Drink?
— Thanks.
— Scotch?
— Thanks.
— Sit down.
— Thanks.
— No need to keep thanking me.
— Thanks. I mean, sorry.
— No need to apologise, either.
— Sorry. I mean, thanks.
— Shall I go and let you talk in private?
— Please stay, if that's OK with you.
— Yes. No secrets from Annie. I tell her everything.
— Several times, usually!
— So, is this highly confidential?
— It is, rather, yes.
— Shall I turn on the radio?
— Is there something good on?
— In case we're being bugged.
— Oh. Is that likely?
— Who's in charge of bugging politicians?
— Ah...
Yes, come to think of it, I am!
That's all right, then.
Could I say that what I'm about
to tell you I'm telling you on a personal basis?
Fine... What do you mean, exactly?
I'm telling you personally
and not as Minister for Administrative Affairs.
— But I am Minister of Administrative Affairs.
— But I'm not telling you in that role.
— I'm telling you as a journalist.
— Journalist? I thought you were an army officer?
— No, YOU'RE a journalist.
— I'm a minister.
But what were you
before you became a minister?
Your starter for ten, no conferring!
I get your drift.
You're telling me what you're telling me,
though I don't know yet what you're telling me,
as the former editor of "Reform".
Yes. You were a very fine editor.
— I wouldn't say that.
— You've often said that!
But how do I prevent myself, as a minister, from
knowing what you'll tell me as a former editor?
I can't prevent the minister from knowing.
— He means it's a question of hats.
— Yes.
I'm not wearing my ministerial hat tonight,
but I ought to warn you,
if I need to be told what you tell me, I shan't
hesitate in my duty to keep myself informed!
Fine. Now, who's in charge
of selling British weapons to foreigners?
— Bzzz. Hacker, LSE.
— Shut up, Annie.
You wrote an article in "Reform" about the sale
of British weapons to undesirable foreigners.
Yes, it was called "The Dreadful Trade".
Perfectly patriotic to manufacture arms
for our own defence or our allies'.
Although not all our allies are very commendable.
But we must not sell weapons to bolster
the regimes of foreign despots, Nazi dictators...
— Or terrorists.
— Terroris... Terrorists?
Terrorists. As I told you,
I've recently returned from Rome.
— NATO, wasn't it?
— A military delegation to NATO.
While I was there, they showed me something
they'd captured in a raid on a terrorist HQ.
It was a computerised bomb detonator.
Very new, very secret, and very lethal.
— Who showed it to you?
— I can't possibly say. It's a confidence.
I see. Computerised bomb detonator?
You set it to calculate the weight of the victim,
speed of his car, so you're sure to get him,
and you can reprogram it remotely,
by radio, after setting it.
Gosh. I don't associate Italians
with that sort of technology!
— It wasn't made in Italy. It was made here.
— Made in Britain?
Under a Ministry of Defence contract
and paid for by the British taxpayer.
— And used by Italian terrorists?
— Yes.
— Where did they get them?
— That's what I want to know.
You haven't told anybody else?
If I make an official report,
I have to disclose my sources.
But if I tell someone
near the top of government...
Er, AT the top, actually.
Yes... that secret British equipment
was being supplied to Italian terrorists,
— then he would, er...
— Absolutely.
What would he?
Find out how it's being done. The investigation
would have to start in Britain at the top level.
Fine.
But you told me you were telling me
on a personal level.
Yes, but now you know personally, if not officially,
you can use your personal knowledge
to start official investigations
to get official confirmation of personal suspicions
so what you now know personally,
but not officially,
you will then know officially as well as personally.
You're not related to Sir Humphrey Appleby
by any chance?
— Who?
— Never mind!
— I felt I had to tell someone.
— Absolutely.
Well, now I know, personally.
Marvellous. Going to do something
about it, aren't you?
— Absolutely, indeed I am.
— Right away?
Right away.
What are you going to do?
I'm going to think
about what you've told me. Right away.
— And then?
— Then I will consider various courses of action.
— Without delay.
— You'll take action without delay.
— I will consider taking action without delay.
— Are you related to Sir Humphrey Appleby?
— Like another drink?
— No, I must be off.
— Can I rely on you to tackle this shocking matter?
— Indeed you can.
— Goodbye.
— Goodnight.
— Goodnight, Major.
— Goodnight, sir.
— What do you think?
— You'll do something?
I certainly will, if it's right.
But I can't believe it's true.
Could it happen?
Couldn't. Could it?
It's not just that it shouldn't. It couldn't.
And if it could, it wouldn't. Would it?
You ARE related to Sir Humphrey Appleby!
Humphrey, I must talk to you about something
which concerns me deeply.
Really profoundly important.
The amendment to the order on stock control
in government establishments?
The procedure for renewal of local authority
leaseholds in development areas?
No, what concerns me is a great issue
really of life and death.
Shouldn't that wait till after work?
— It is work.
— Really? Please go on.
How do British armaments manufacturers
sell their arms to foreigners?
You get an export licence
from the Department of Trade.
Private firms can sell their arms abroad?
— Companies and government agencies.
— To whom?
— Foreign governments, usually.
— Is that all?
Well, sometimes you can sell
to an arms dealer, third party.
A man in Manchester buys
on behalf of a party in the Channel Islands
with contacts in Luxembourg...
There's no real control
over who the arms go to in the end?
Indeed there is. The dealer has to provide
an end user certificate
which is a signature
acceptable to the government
that the ultimate customer is an approved user.
Is that a real guarantee?
Would you be surprised if a British aircraft
carrier turned up in the Central African Republic?
I, for one, Minister, would be very surprised.
It's 1,000 miles inland!
You know what I mean.
What about smaller weapons?
It's officially impossible. Stringent security,
rigorous inspections, meticulous scrutiny.
You mean it's all a facade?
Ah.
— I think this conversation should end here.
— No, it's as I thought.
A confidential source has disclosed to me that
British arms are being sold to Italian terrorists.
I see. May I ask
who this confidential source was?
Humphrey, I said it was confidential.
Sorry. I naturally assumed
that meant you were going to tell me.
— You don't seem worried.
— It happens all the time. It's not our problem.
So does robbery with violence.
Does that worry you?
No, Minister. Home Office problem.
Humphrey, we're letting terrorists
have murderous weapons!
— WE'RE not.
— Well, who is?
Who knows? Department of Trade?
Ministry of Defence? Foreign Office?
We, Humphrey, the British government.
Innocent lives set at risk by British arms
in the hands of terrorists.
Only Italian lives, not British lives, Minister.
— Could be British tourists abroad.
— Tourists? Foreign Office problem.
— Humphrey, we have to do something.
— With respect, we have to do nothing.
— What do you mean?
— The sale of arms abroad
is one area of government
we do not examine too closely.
— I have to, now I know.
— Say you don't know.
— Are you suggesting I lie?
— Not you, Minister, no.
— Well, who should lie?
— Sleeping dogs, Minister.
— I'm going to raise this.
— No, I beg you.
A rule of government is never look
into anything you don't have to,
never start an enquiry
unless you know what its findings will be.
I can't believe this!
We're talking about good and evil.
— Church of England problem.
— No, Humphrey!
— Our problem. We are discussing right and wrong.
— I'm not. It's misuse of government time.
— Selling arms to terrorists is wrong.
— Either you sell arms or you don't.
If you sell them,
they end up with people who can afford them.
But not terrorists?
I suppose we could put
a government health warning on the rifle butts!
"This gun can seriously damage your health."
You may take this lightly, but we cannot close
our eyes to something as morally wrong as this.
If you insist on discussing moral issues,
something is either morally wrong or it isn't.
It can't be slightly morally wrong.
— Don't quibble.
— Government isn't about morality.
— Really? What is it about?
— Stability. Keeping things going.
Preventing anarchy. Stopping society
falling to bits. Still being here tomorrow.
— What for?
— I beg your pardon?
What is the purpose of government
if not for doing good?
Government isn't about good and evil.
It's about order or chaos.
It's in order for Italian terrorists
to get British bombs?
— You don't care?
— It's not my job to care.
That's what politicians are for.
My job is to carry out policy.
— Even if you think it's wrong?
— Almost all government policy is wrong, but...
...frightfully well carried out!
Have you ever known a civil servant
resign on a matter of principle?
I should think not! What an appalling suggestion!
For the first time, I fully understand that you
are purely committed to means and not ends!
As far as I'm concerned, and all my colleagues,
there is no difference between means and ends.
If you believe that, Humphrey, you will go to hell.
Minister, I had no idea you had a theological bent.
— You are a moral vacuum.
— If you say so, Minister.
— Time for your lunch appointment.
— You're keeping very quiet, Bernard.
— What would you do about all this?
— I would keep very quiet.
— So may we drop the matter of arms sales?
— No, we may not!
I'm going to tell the Prime Minister personally.
Make an appointment, Bernard.
This is the sort of thing he wants to know about.
I assure you, this is the sort of thing
he wants NOT to know about.
We shall see about that.
Indeed we will.
What's the matter, Bernard?
— Nothing really, Sir Humphrey.
— You look unhappy.
— I was wondering if the minister was right.
— Very unlikely. What about?
About ends and means.
Will I end up as a moral vacuum, too?
Oh, I hope so, Bernard.
If you work hard enough.
Makes me feel rather downcast.
If it's our job to carry out government policies,
shouldn't we believe in them?
Oh, what an extraordinary idea!
— Why?
— Bernard...
I have served 11 governments in the past
30 years. If I'd believed in all their policies,
I'd have been passionately committed
to keeping out of the Common Market,
and passionately committed to joining it.
I'd have been utterly convinced
of the rightness of nationalising steel
and of denationalising it and renationalising it.
Capital punishment? I'd have been a fervent
retentionist and an ardent abolitionist.
I'd have been a Keynesian and a Friedmanite,
a grammar school preserver and destroyer,
a nationalisation freak and a privatisation maniac,
but above all, I would have been
a stark-staring raving schizophrenic!
So what do we believe in?
At this moment, Bernard, we believe in stopping
the minister from informing the Prime Minister.
— But why?
— Because once the Prime Minister knows,
there will have to be an enquiry, like Watergate.
The investigation of a trivial break-in
led to one ghastly revelation after another
and finally the downfall of a president.
The golden rule is don't lift lids off cans of worms.
— No, Sir Humphrey.
— Everything is connected to everything else.
— Who said that?
— The Cabinet Secretary?
Nearly right. Actually, it was Lenin.
How do you stop a Cabinet Minister
talking to a Prime Minister?
— Interesting question. You tell me.
— I don't know.
Work it out. You're supposed to be a high-flier.
Or are you really a low-flier
supported by occasional gusts of wind?
Well, YOU can't stop the minister
seeing the PM, can you?
— I can't.
— Nor can the private office at No. 10.
— Correct.
— It has to be someone high up in government.
— Getting warmer.
— Someone close to the PM.
Someone who can frighten the minister...
— The Chief Whip?
— Excellent, you've learnt a lot.
— So, how do you crack the whip?
— I'm sorry?
How do you mobilise the Chief Whip?
The minister's asked me to phone
the PM's private office for an appointment,
so if you had a word with the Cabinet Secretary,
and he had a word with the diary secretary,
and they all had a word with the Whip's office...
...then when the minister arrived, the Whip
could meet him and say the PM is busy
and asked him to have a word
with the minister instead.
Excellent, Bernard.
You should have taken a degree in engineering!
— What are you doing?
— You wanted the Cabinet Secretary.
I do, indeed. Now, do you,
as the minister's private secretary,
feel obliged to tell the minister
of this conversation?
What conversation?
Well done, Bernard. You'll be a moral vacuum yet!
Ah, Jim.
My dear chap, how nice to see you.
— Vic, I was hoping to see the Prime Minister.
— Yes.
The PM's rather busy today.
Asked me to see you instead.
Vic, it's not a matter for the Chief Whip.
The PM asked me to have a preliminary
conversation and write a background note.
— Save time later.
— Oh.
Well, I've been given
some pretty dramatic information.
Go on.
The Italian Red Terrorists are being supplied
with top secret bomb detonators
made in this country, in a government factory.
— And you feel you should tell the PM?
— Yes, the PM's head of security.
I don't think it's anything
to burden the PM with. Let's hold it over.
— Forget all about it?
— That's my recommendation.
I'm sorry, Vic, I can't accept it.
The PM must be told.
— If the PM is told, there'd have to be an enquiry.
— Exactly.
Perhaps revealing other undesirable -
even hostile - governments
— had been supplied with British-made arms.
— Seriously?
Perhaps. It might be highly embarrassing
to our Cabinet colleagues -
Foreign Secretary, Defence Secretary,
Trade Secretary, and to the PM personally.
Doing the right thing might be embarrassing
sometimes, but that's no reason for not doing it.
You know we already sell arms
to Syria, Chile, Iran?
— It's officially approved.
— You like what they do with them?
Well, obviously not entirely.
— Either you're in the arms business or you're not!
— If being in it means arming terrorists,
— we should be out, it's immoral.
— Oh, great!
Great!
Is it moral to put 100,000 British workers
out of a job?
And exports, two billion a year gone, for starters.
And votes? Where do you think the government
places those weapons contracts?
— In marginal constituencies, obviously.
— Exactly.
All I'm saying is that now that I know,
the Prime Minister must be told.
— Why?
Just because you've caught something nasty,
why do you have to breathe over everyone?
Are you happy in the Cabinet?
— Yes, of course I am!
— Do you want to stay in it?

🎬 [HE GULPS]

Well, then?
Sorry, Vic, but there is such a thing as duty.
— Sometimes one must follow one's conscience.
— For God's sake!
Must you flash about your petty little conscience?
Don't you think anybody else has got one?
— Have you no conscience for the government?
— Of course!
The PM is on the verge of signing
an international anti-terrorist agreement.
— I didn't know.
— There's a lot you don't know.
Can't you see it's essential
to deal with major policy
rather than a few arms exporters and terrorists?
Yes, I suppose it is
just a couple of terrorist groups.
— Can't kill that many people, can they?
— Suppose not!
And you want to blow it all
in a fit of moral self-indulgence!
After all, with the PM thinking about you
as the next Foreign Secretary...
Do you mean that?
Good Lord!
So if you want to martyr yourself,
go ahead and press for an enquiry.
Feel free to jeopardise everything
we've worked for all these years.
No, no. Obviously it's appalling if Italian
terrorists are getting hold of British weapons,
but there is such a thing as loyalty,
the common purpose.
I suppose one must see these things
in a proper perspective.
— If it was the Ministry of Defence, Board of Trade.
— Ministry of Defence, Board of Trade problem.
Foreign Office problem. I can see that now.
So we can hold it over for the time being?
— Don't want to upset and embarrass the PM!
— Absolutely not. Definitely not. No.
Sorry I mentioned it.
Good man!
So I thought on balance
it was best to leave it at that.
Let sleeping dogs lie...
In the wider interest.
As a loyal member of the government.
— Nothing to be gained. Opening a can of worms.
— The major said they were terrorists.
Yes, well...
— We bombed Dresden. We're all terrorists.
— No.
I mean metaphorically.
You should meet the Chief Whip. He certainly is!
— Someone in Britain's giving bombs to murderers.
— Selling, not giving.
— That makes it OK?
— Be serious, Annie.
An investigation might uncover all sorts.
I see. Investigate if you can catch one criminal,
but not if you might catch lots!
If they're your Cabinet colleagues, you're right!
Government is a very complex business, Annie.
There are so many conflicting considerations.
— Whether to do the right thing or wrong thing.
— Exactly. No...
What do you suggest I do?
— Take a moral stand.
— How?
— Threaten resignation.
— They'd accept it!
Then where would I be?
If I'm gone, I'm not in a position
to do any good any more.
— You're not doing good now.
— Resignation may be a sop to our consciences,
but it won't stop terrorists getting British bombs.
— It might if you tell what you know.
— What do I know?
I've no hard facts. I know it's going on
because nobody's denied it, but that's not proof.
Can't you see? I'm in a real fix.
I don't think you realise just how real a fix
you're in. This letter arrived today.
From Major Saunders.
"Dear Mr Hacker. Thank you for seeing me.
"Such a relief to have told you about the supply
of British weapons to Italian terrorists.
"I know you will act upon this information
as you promised
"and I look forward to seeing some action taken."
You see?
What will you do when Major Saunders tells the
world he told you about it and you did nothing?
— It's a photocopy. He's got the original.
— It was recorded delivery, so you did get it.
I'm trapped!
Completely trapped!
I can't tell the PM, I can't NOT tell the PM.
— I see.
— Might we not use the Rhodesia Solution?
Bernard, you excel yourself!
Of course, Minister, the Rhodesia Solution!
— What's that?
— Oil sanctions.
A member of the government
was told about sanction-busting.
— What did he do?
— Told the PM.
— And?
— He told the PM in a way the PM didn't hear him.
Oh. Do you mean I should mumble it
in the Division lobby?
— No, Minister, you write a note.
— Very faint pencil?
— Please, be practical.
— It's awfully obvious.
— Write a note susceptible of misinterpretation.
— Oh, I see!
"Dear Prime Minister,
I believe Italian Red Terrorists
"have secret British bomb-making
equipment." How do you misinterpret that?
You can't. So you don't write that.
You use a more circumspect style
with no mention of bombs or terrorists.
— Isn't that what it's all about?
— Bernard, write this down.
"My attention has been drawn to information
which suggests possible irregularities under..."
Section 1 of the Import, Export
and Customs Powers Defence Act 1939c.
Thank you, Bernard.
You then suggest that somebody else
should do something about it.
"Evidence suggests
there may be a case for further investigation
"to establish whether enquiries
should be put in hand."
Then you smudge it all over.
"Nevertheless, it should be stressed
that available information is limited
"and facts could be difficult to establish
with any certainty."
— I see.
— If there's an enquiry, you'd be in the clear
and everybody would understand the busy
PM might not have grasped the implications.
— They certainly would! That's most unclear.
— Thank you, Minister!
You arrange for the letter to arrive at No. 10
on the day the PM has an overseas summit!
So there is also doubt about whether it was
the PM or the acting PM who read the note.
It's seen as a breakdown in communication,
everyone's cleared and can get on with things.
— Including the Red Terrorists!
— Exactly... Bernard!
I'll tell you about government.
You must always try to do the right thing.
But you must never let anybody
catch you trying to do it
because doing right's wrong. Right?
— Haven't you had enough, darling?
— There's still some left in the bottle.
No, the thing about government is principle.
And the principle is you mustn't rock the boat...
...because if you do,
all the little consciences will fall out.
And you must all hang together.
Because if you don't hang together,
you'll all be hanged separately.
I'm hanged if I'll be hanged!
You know... politics is about helping others.
Even if that means helping terrorists.
Terrorists are others, aren't they?
Not us, are they?
No.
And you must always follow your conscience,
but you must know where you're going.
So you can't follow your conscience.
'Cause it may not be going
the same way that you are.
Empty... Like me.
— I'm a moral vacuum.
— Cheer up, darling!
Nothing good comes out of Whitehall.
You did what you could.
— You don't really mean that.
— I do.
— I'm just like Humphrey and the rest.
— That's not true!
He's lost his sense of right and wrong.
You've still got yours.
— Have I?
— It's just that you don't use it much.
You're a sort of whisky priest, you at least know
when you've done the wrong thing.
— Whisky priest?
— That's right.
Good.
— Let's open another bottle.
— We haven't got one.
That's what you think!
Who said nothing good
ever came out of Whitehall?
— You want one?
— Yes, Minister!

🎬 [THEY SHOUT ENCOURAGEMENT]

🎬 [FINAL WHISTLE BLOWS]

— Coming for a drink in the board room, Jim?
— Thanks.
Ah, well, better enjoy it while the club's still here.
— We've always survived.
— It's different this time.
— Tell him, Brian.
— We've had a meeting of the finance committee.
Aston Wanderers will have to call in the Receiver!
— You mean bankrupt?
— The final whistle.
— We need one-and-a-half million quid, Jim.
— The government waste that every 30 seconds!
— Oh, I say!
— You know what people are saying, Jim?
It's no good having a Cabinet Minister for an MP.
Better a local lad with time for his constituency.
— That's absurd!
— Why?
— There are advantages if an MP's in the Cabinet.
— We haven't noticed them, have we, Harry?
— Such as?
— It reflects well on the constituency.
It's good to have powerful friends,
influence in high places, a friend in need...
Listen, friend, what we need
is one-and-a-half million quid!
Ah.
So will you use that influence to help us?
Well, when I said influence,
I meant the indefinable sort,
the intangible, subtle benefit
of an input into broad general policy
at its early stages
while keeping constituency interests in mind.
Do you mean no?
Well, anything I can do in a broad, general sense
to further the cause, I will certainly...
...er, do.
If I can. But for a minister to pump
one-and-a-half million into his local football club!
He means no.
But there'd be lots of votes in it.
You'd be the hero of the constituency.
"Jim Hacker, the man who saved
Aston Wanderers!" Safe seat for life!
That might occur to the press.
And the opposition. And the judge!
If this club goes to the wall it'll be a disaster.
Look at our history!
FA Cup winners, League Champions,
first team into Europe.
I know all that, but be fair.
It's a local matter, not a ministerial one.
As chair of the Arts and Leisure Committee,
can you help?
Me? You're joking. I spent half of yesterday
trying to raise 711 quid
to repoint the chimney on the art gallery.
That miserable place? Why not let it fall down?
I'd love to, but if it fell on somebody,
the Council's liable. We own the bloody place!
And we keep getting offers for the site.
Savefair Supermarkets were after it last month.
Hold on, how much were they offering?
About two million quid, I think.
If you sold the art gallery,
you could save the football club.
— There'd have to be a planning enquiry.
— Can we see it?
We'll have to be quick. They close at five.
— Hideous, isn't it?
— It's a Grade II listed building.
Bernard, what is our political master up to
with the Corn Exchange Art Gallery?
— Oh, er, how did you find out about that?
— Not from you, Bernard.
An omission you may care to explain.
— Surely it's just a constituency matter?
— Surely not.
Selling the gallery to Savefair Supermarkets
and giving an interest-free loan to Aston
Wanderers, he's acting as an MP not a minister.
It is the principle, Bernard.
Have you thought what the effect would be
if this happens?
— He'd be very popular.
— Exactly!
Distressingly popular.
Hideously popular. And then?
— The minister would be re-elected.
— And that is not our top priority.
In this department,
it makes little difference who the minister is.
But the point is, suppose other football clubs
got into difficulties?
And what about greyhound racing? Should dog
tracks be subsidised as well as football clubs?
— Why not, if that's what the people want?
— Bernard...
...subsidy...
...is for art, for culture.
It is not to be given to what the people want!
It is for what the people don't want
but ought to have!
If they want something
they'll pay for it themselves!
No, we subsidise education,
enlightenment, spiritual uplift.
Not the vulgar pastimes of ordinary people.
It's the thin end of the wedge.
It must be stopped!
— Ah, Minister.
— Humphrey. What's the matter now?
Minister, I thought you'd like early warning
that there's a reshuffle in the offing.

🎬 [HE GASPS]

— You don't mean... You're not suggesting...
— No, no, no, Minister.
There is to be a departmental reorganisation.
A real reshuffle.
— We may get extra responsibilities.
— Do we want them?
We want all responsibilities, Minister,
if they mean extra staff and bigger budgets.
It's the breadth of our responsibilities that makes
us important, makes YOU important, Minister.
When you see vast buildings, huge staff
and massive budgets, what do you conclude?
Bureaucracy?
No, Minister, you conclude that at the summit
there are men of great stature and dignity
who hold the world in their hands
and tread the earth like princes.
Yes, I see.
So each new responsibility
must be seized eagerly
and each old one guarded jealously.
— Entirely in your interests, of course, Minister.
— Thank you for warning me, Humphrey.
Thank you, Minister.
Oh! By the way...
— About the Corn Exchange Art Gallery proposal.
— What about it?
It's the most imaginative scheme, novel idea,
— but I wonder if it might not be a little unwise?
— Why?
— A valuable civic amenity.
— A monstrosity!
A valuable civic monstrosity.
— An important collection of British paintings.
— Utterly unimportant.
Second-rate 18th-century portraits,
third-rate 19th-century landscapes,
modern paintings the Tate wouldn't even store.
But an important representative collection
of unimportant paintings.
And a source of great spiritual uplift
to passing citizenry.
— They never go in!
— But they know it's there.
The curator says they average 11 visitors a day!
It's a constituency matter. Nothing to do
with Whitehall. What's your interest?
— A question of principle.
— Principle?
What you used to tell me politics was about.
— What principle?
— The principle of taking money away from the arts
and putting it into football.
A football club is a commercial operation. There's
no cause for subsidy if it runs out of money.
— Why not?
Yes. There's no difference
between subsidising football and art.
Except more people are interested in football.
— Our cultural heritage has to be preserved.
— For whom?
For people like you, you mean,
the educated middle classes.
Why should others subsidise
the pleasures of the middle-class few?
Theatre, opera, ballet!
— Subsidising art is a middle-class rip-off.
— Oh, Minister, how can you say such a thing?
Subsidy is about education,
preserving the pinnacles of our civilisation.
— Or hadn't you noticed?
— Don't patronise me. I believe in education.
I'm a graduate of the London School
of Economics, remember.
I'm glad to learn that even the LSE
is not totally opposed to education.
Nothing wrong with subsidising sport.
Sport is educational.
We have sex education too.
Should we subsidise sex?
Could we?
Let us choose what we subsidise
by the extent of popular demand.
— Nothing wrong with that. It's democratic.
— It's the thin end of the wedge!
What would happen to the Royal Opera House,
the very summit of our cultural achievement?
Very good case in point. What do they do?
Mozart, Wagner, Verdi, Puccini.
Germans and Italians, not our culture.
Why should we subsidise the culture
of the Axis powers?
Our European partners, Minister!
The Royal Opera House gets nine-and-a-half
million pounds of public money every year.
And for what? The public can't afford �30 seats
and if it could there aren't enough of them.
The vast majority of the audience consists
of big business executives
block-booked by the banks and oil companies
and multinationals and people like you.
The Royal Opera House
is the establishment at play.
Why should the working man pay for the gentry
who can perfectly well afford their own seats?
Minister, I'm quite frankly appalled.
This is savagery, barbarism.
That a Minister of the Crown should say such
things, it's the end of civilisation as we know it,
— as well as being a gross distortion of the truth.
— Distortion?
— Art cannot survive without public subsidy.
— Did Shakespeare get a subsidy?
And films? Films are art and educational. Why
does the establishment ignore their subsidy?
Because people like you prefer opera.
We should subsidise relevant art
like films that the man in the street can enjoy.
Precisely! They are commercial.
Now, excuse me, I have to go early. I cannot
continue with this appalling discussion.
— Where are you going?
— Nowhere.
Well, I'm sorry. We must talk this through.
I can't. I have to dress.
Dress? Where are you going?
Since you insist,
I am going to the Royal Opera House.
Are you really?
Gala night, is it?
— Yes, it is, since you ask.
— Lots of Permanent Secretaries going?
Some, no doubt.
— Off you go, then.
— Thank you.
I don't want to make you late
for your works' outing!
That's what it is, isn't it? What's on tonight?
The Flying Dutchman.
Another of our European partners!
— G&T, lan?
— Thanks.
Two G&Ts, please, large ones.
And some of those smoked salmon sandwiches
you have. Thank you very much.
— So, how's the environment?
— Bit smoky, isn't it?
Oh, you mean my department? Chaos, as usual.
— What, the Secretary of State is trying to run it?
— I could cope with that.
One of the junior ministers is trying to help him.
Oh, Lord. Who?
— Giles Freeman, the Parli Sec.
— Oh, Lord, him?
— Anyhow, what do you want to talk about?
— A planning enquiry.
Important we get the right result.
My planning inspectors
are absolutely independent.
— Absolutely.
— No undue influence.
No, no, I wouldn't suggest it. But if it's a
question of giving certain informal guidelines...
— Putting the enquiry into perspective.
— Yes, indeed.
Explaining the background to facilitate
an appreciation of the issues and implications.
— That would be quite proper.
— Splendid.
— Ah.
— Thank you very much.
Er, right. Thank you very much.
Cheers.
So what do you want me to fix?
It's an art gallery in the West Midlands.
Proposed demolition of a Grade II listed building.
— I'm sure we can arrange that. Only too happy.
— Splendid.
We're knocking them down all over the place.
No, no, the proposal has to be rejected.
Really? Why?
If it goes through, they'll use the proceeds
to save the local football club from bankruptcy.
— Humphrey...
— I know.
If once you allow the principle of money being
taken from the arts and given to ordinary people...
...to enjoy themselves!
— I agree.
— Where will it end?
Exactly.
— Where did this appalling idea come from?
— My lord and master.
He's getting very het up
over the sweaty masses.
— Didn't you stop him? What were you thinking of?
— It's not me. It's his constituency.
Apparently he put it to a group of councillors
last Saturday and they jumped at it.
I've always said
we shouldn't let him out at weekends!
He only causes trouble.
You realise where this could lead?
Today a Midlands art gallery goes
to support the local football club,
tomorrow the Royal Opera House grant goes
to modernise Wembley Stadium.
My point exactly. So I can trust you
to keep an eye on the planning enquiry?
— Well, I can't influence the inspector...
— 'Course not.
But I'll put someone on it
who's overdue for promotion.
Good. You'll give him
a thorough briefing, won't you?
Oh, I'm sure he will see the real issue.
Civilisation versus barbarism.
We can't have arts money going to popular
sport. It's simply subsidising self-indulgence.
Exactly.
Minister, before we go over today's diary, there's
something I'd like to suggest, if I may be so bold.
— Be as bold as you like.
— Well, I feel, and I say this with respect,
you shouldn't get too involved
with this football club affair.
That is bold, isn't it? It's a constituency matter.
Better for me to be "bold"
than you to be stumped, Minister!
Very droll.
It's axiomatic in Whitehall that even an MP,
let alone a minister,
should never take part in a planning enquiry
in his own constituency.
— Why not?
— Because of finely-balanced local issues.
You'll offend as many constituents
as you'll please.
It's especially dangerous
if there's a quango in the wings.
No. Issues aren't finely-balanced.
Everyone's on the same side,
except a few wet, long-haired scruffy art lovers!
We'll take a look at your diary for this morning.
Oh, fine.
10.15, Secretary General of the Arts Council,
the biggest quango of all.
10.45, Historic Monuments Association,
11.00, The National Trust.
11.15, Country Landowners Association,
11.30, Council for Protection of Rural England...
— Rural England?
— There's quite a lot of it out there!
— Why are all these people coming to see me?
— The art gallery, Minister.
It's the arts and architecture mafia.
— 11.45, the Country Crafts and Folklore Council.
— Who are they?
The raffia mafia.
Influential people coming out of the woodwork.
There'll be letters in The Times, hostile articles
in the Sundays, you'll be called a vandal.
They'll orchestrate opposition
in your constituency.
Why did you put them in my diary?
I didn't ask you to. What were you thinking?
— I was thinking of Sir Humphrey. He asked me to.
— No.
I'm going to support this excellent scheme,
come what may.
As you will. May I just have your approval for
this local government allowances amendment?
It's a statutory instrument
to go before the House.
As Minister for Local Government,
you need to authorise that revised paragraph 5,
Number 2 regulation 1971
shall come into operation on March 18th,
revoking regulation 7 of the local government
allowances amendment regulations 1954b.
What the hell's all that mean?
There is an explanatory note.
"These regulations make provision
"for prescribing allowances payable
to members of local authorities.
"Explanatory note, regulation 3 of the local
government allowances amendment (1971)
"(the 1971 regulations)
"Substituted a new regulation for regulation 3
of the 1954 regulations.
"Regulation 3 of the local government
allowances amendment regulations 1972,
"(the 1972 regulations) further made amends
regulation 3 of the 1954 regulations
"by increasing the maximum rates of attendance
and financial loss allowances."
— I haven't the faintest...
— "Regulation 7, 1982,
"revoked both regulations 3 and 5
of the 1971 regulations,
"regulation 5 being a regulation revoking
earlier spent regulations,
"with effect from 1st April next.
"These regulations preserve regulations 3 and 5
of the 1971 regulations
"by revoking regulation 7 of the 1972 regulations."
That's an explanatory note?
Yes, I think that's all quite clear.
Why must I listen to this piddling gobbledegook?
I thought it would be an opportune moment
for you to ensure
that as a result of your ministerial efforts, local
councillors will get more for attending meetings.
— Oh, is that what it means?
— Yes.
Excellent. It is, as you say, opportune.
— And may I make one further small suggestion?
— Be my guest.
Sir Humphrey had a word
with Sir lan Whitworth last night.
— Lan Whitworth!
— The Corn Exchange is a listed building,
so one of his planning inspectors
will conduct the enquiry.
Sir Humphrey and Sir lan will give him
some informal guidelines.
How do you mean, "informal guidelines"?
Guidelines are perfectly proper.
Everyone has guidelines for their work.
I thought planning inspectors were impartial?
Oh, really, Minister!
So they are. Railway trains are impartial too.
But if you lay down the lines for them,
that's the way they go!
— But that's not fair!
— It's politics, Minister.
What has Sir Humphrey got to do with politics?
He's a civil servant. I'm the one in politics!
Yes, Minister, indeed you are!
How do they intend to put pressure
on this planning inspector?
Planning inspectors
have an independent hierarchy.
A vulnerable one is one anxious for promotion.
How are planning inspectors chosen
for an enquiry? Could a minister interfere?
— Ministers are our lords and masters.
— Good.
The Parli Sec at the Department of the
Environment is an old friend, Giles Freeman.
Well, if Mr Freeman could arrange for an
inspector who didn't care about promotion,
if, for instance, he's about to retire,
he'll probably reach a verdict favouring
the community rather than the department.
Good! Get me Giles on the phone, would you?
His Private Secretary says he can meet you
in the lobby after the vote this evening.
Bernard, have you ever thought
of going into politics?
— Oh, no, Minister.
— Why not?
— I once looked it up in my thesaurus.
— What did it say?
Manipulation, intrigue, wire-pulling,
evasion, graft, rabble-rousing...
I'd prefer to leave that to our lords and masters.
I don't think I have the necessary qualities.
Don't underestimate yourself, Bernard!
Now it seems Hacker has got at Giles Freeman,
the Parli Sec in my department,
who insisted on appointing a different
planning inspector to the one I chose!
One who'd be sympathetic to Hacker's scheme.
— This is rather worrying.
— Worrying? It's desperate!
There's now every danger that the planning
inspector could make up his own mind!
There's likely to be huge local support
for the scheme.
— But how can I help?
— I hoped you'd have some ideas, Arnold.
Wait a minute! I've thought of something.
When the departmental reorganisation
occurs next week...
...you could make Hacker
Cabinet Minister responsible for the arts!
— But isn't he a complete philistine?
— Yes.
But then the Industry Secretary
is the idlest man in town.
The Education Secretary is illiterate!
The Employment Secretary is unemployable!
Quite. That's good thinking, Humphrey.
Hacker can hardly start out as Cabinet Minister
for the arts by closing down an art gallery.
— Exactly.
— But it's not a reshuffle, is it?
No, I simply meant reorganise.
Move the arts and telecommunications
into the purview of the DAA.
Arts and television together?
What have they got to do with each other?
They're complete opposites.
Wouldn't we be creating a monster department?
You've already got local government as well.
— Arts and local government go well together.
— How so?
Well, the art of jiggery-pokery!
You only just thought of this
here and now, did you?
— Yes, why?
— Bit of an artist yourself, aren't you?
Oh, Arnold!
— Anything more, Bernard?
— Sir Humphrey wants a word
before your meeting about Aston Wanderers.
But I'm unshakeable on that!
It's no good, Humphrey, my mind is made up.
You might be interested in a new development,
the government reshuffle.
— You said it was just a reorganisation.
— Not JUST a reorganisation.
A reorganisation.
I'm delighted to tell you that it has brought us,
brought YOU, new honour and importance.
In addition to existing responsibilities, you will
be Cabinet Minister responsible for the arts.
I say, that's rather good, isn't it!
Hold on, how do you know before I do?
I just happened to be with the Cabinet Secretary
shortly after the decision was taken.
I see.
Cabinet Minister with responsibility for the arts!
— Well, well, well!
— Yes, indeed.
Anything more? I'm about to start a meeting.
Oh, the meeting, yes.
I do hope you've considered the implications
of your new appointment on the subject.
— Rescuing a football club?
— No, no.
I was wondering how it would look
if as Minister responsible for the arts,
your first act was to knock down an art gallery.
It's quite a decent little art gallery...
— Exactly.
— Interesting building.
— Grade II listed.
— Minister, your meeting...
Oh, my God! What am I going to say?
— Councillors Wilkinson, Noble and Green.
— Brian, good to see you.
Pete... Doug.
Sir Humphrey Appleby, my Permanent Secretary.
You mean he's only a temp!
It's going great, Jim. We've got all the political
parties with us and the County Council.
All we need is your approval for using the sale
of the art gallery as a loan to the club.
Well, I'm afraid there's a snag.
— You said there weren't any!
— Well, there is.
Well, it's just that... Well...
It appears... Well, it seems...
Well, I should say it has emerged...
Sir Humphrey can explain better than me.
It can't be done, gentlemen.
Er, the art gallery is... It's a trust.
— Terms of the original bequest.
— Yes, it's a trust.
We shall have to knock something else down!
School, church, hospital...
There's bound to be something!
I can't believe this. So I have to tell people
back home you've gone back on your word?
— It was your own idea!
— It's not me, it's the law.
Why didn't you find out till now?
— Well...
— A-hem.
Let me be absolutely frank with you.
The truth is, it would be possible
to push this through, just possible,
— but it would take an awful long time.
— OK, we've spent enough.
Trouble is, something else
would have to go by the board.
The thing that's taking my time at the moment
is forcing through councillors' expenses
and attendance allowances.
I can't put my personal weight
behind both schemes.
I suppose I could forget about
the increased allowances for councillors
and concentrate on the legal obstacles,
the sale of the art gallery.
— Tricky things, legal obstacles.
— This is a particularly tricky one.
At the end of the day, you might still fail.
— Every possibility.
— If that's the way it is...
there's a chance we might want to close
Edgehill primary at the end of the year...
That site would fetch
a couple of million, give or take.
Well, there it is, then. No ill feelings to you.
Good. And you'll explain locally
that we can't overcome the legal obstacles?
'Course we will. Carry on with the good work!
Oh, Minister, a work of art.
— If you'll excuse me, I have to dress.
— Another works' outing?
— Er, Humphrey...
— Minister?
— As Cabinet Minister responsible for the arts...
— Hmm?
...could I come too?
Yes, Minister!