Yes Prime Minister — Series 1 (Episodes 5-8)

📺 YPM 1.5 ~ 1.8

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。

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

---

Hello, darling. Good Cabinet meeting?
— Hmm.
— Good Cabinet meeting, darling?
— I want a triple Scotch!
— As bad as that? Why?
The financial crisis is much worse
than we thought. All the Cabinet must make cuts.
— Bernard, would you like a Scotch?
— Yes, a large one, please.
Humphrey should have seen this coming.
I don't think he understands Economics.
He did read Classics.
Sir Frank is head of the Treasury.
He's at an even greater disadvantage
in understanding Economics. He's an economist.
— Can't they see there's got to be cuts?
— In other departments, not in their own!
So you ordered a clampdown?
— I can't do that. I'm only the Prime Minister.
— But you're in charge.
A leader can only lead by consent, consensus.
That's democracy.
— So who IS in charge?
— Nobody, really.
— Is that good?
— It must be. That's what democracy is about.
And I've got a deputation of MPs coming
to see me about a pay rise I promised them.
— What will you say?
— That I deeply sympathise. I don't.
That they fully deserve it. Not true.
And that I shall make it my first priority
as soon as the crisis is over. I shan't.
If they vote themselves
a whacking great pay rise,
it doesn't do very much
for the dignity of Parliament. It doesn't.
— Are they underpaid?
— Underpaid?! Backbench MPs? Darling...
Being an MP is a vast, subsidised ego trip.
You need no qualifications, no compulsory
hours of work, no performance standards.
A warm room and subsidised meals for a bunch
of self-opinionated windbags and busybodies
who suddenly find people taking them seriously
because they've got ''MP'' after their names!
How can they be underpaid when there's
about 200 applicants for every vacancy?
You could fill every seat 20 times over
even if they paid to do the job!
You were a backbench MP only 5 years ago.
I was the exception.
I was the cream. I rose to the top.
— Do you think you'll shut them up?
— Who knows?
The public will never stand for an MPs' pay rise
when we cut back on nurses and teachers.
Oh, that's a much more serious problem.
No, darling, much LESS serious. They can't
vote against me till the next election.
Backbenchers can do it at 10 o'clock tonight.
Humphrey, I've just had a very stormy meeting
with my backbenchers!
— I'm so sorry.
— If I had warning, I'd have softened them up.
— Papers only arrived the night before Cabinet!
— Most regrettable.
It's up to you, Humphrey. You must insist
that we get papers circulated earlier.
Alas, there are grave problems
in circulating papers before they are written.
Why the sudden crisis?
— Prime Minister, you must ask Sir Frank.
— What would Sir Frank say?
It is not for a humble mortal such as I
to speculate on the complex
and elevated deliberations of the mighty,
but, in general, I think Sir Frank believes that
if the Treasury knows something must be done,
the Cabinet shouldn't have time to think about it..
Outrageous!
— Yes, indeed. It's known as Treasury policy.
— Suppose the Cabinet has questions?
His view is on the rare occasions
when the Treasury understands the questions,
the Cabinet doesn't understand the answers.
— Do you subscribe to that view?
— I, Prime Minister,
I merely try to carry out your wishes.
I wish that in future all Cabinet papers
be circulated at least 48 hours in advance.
— Would you tell Sir Frank?
— Yes, of course.
I shall seek an audience with him at once.
Thank you.
Who does Frank think he is?
At least Old Humpy knows his place.
It was very loyal of him to tell me the truth.
They usually all stick together, don't they?
He's rather anxious because of your threat
to make Sir Frank head of the home Civil Service.
Of course.
I wonder if I should do something about that.
Or if there isn't something to be gained
out of keeping them both in suspense.
You gain an anxious Cabinet Secretary.
Is that what you want?
Hmm...
He wasn't just unhappy about the cuts, Frank.
He was very unhappy about your papers arriving
at such short notice.
I hope you explained
it was because of America's policy change.
My dear Frank, I defended you gallantly,
leaving the Prime Minister in no doubt
as to the real cause.
Oh, good. Thanks.
— I'll need his goodwill.
— Why?
We shall obviously have to bring in
some form of pay restraint.
The problem is,
the MPs are being denied their pay rise
just as we bring forward
the proposed Civil Service pay rise.
— Ah. That's an awkward one.
— Yes.
— One isn't interested for oneself...
— Of course not.
But one does owe it to one's junior colleagues.
Ironic, isn't it, Frank?
Trying to help them involves raising our own
salaries, which we don't care about at all.
And then we get accused
of feathering our own nests!
That's just another cross we have to bear.
Yes. Envy, pure envy.
You'd better get that proposal in fast
before the pay restraint begins.
The night before next Thursday's Cabinet.
We can't let Ministers spend two days
talking about it.
They'll come up with stupid objections!
And try to delay it until the pay restraint.
Mm. Do you think it's all right
to bounce the Cabinet two weeks running?
— No alternative.
— I-I-I was thinking, Humphrey.
Perhaps it would be better
if the proposal came from both of us.
— Both of us?
— Well, we are joint heads of the Civil Service.
Not as I understand it, Frank.
— Oh, I think so, effectively.
— I think not, effectively.
I look after the financial side
and you the establishment side.
But, Frank, with respect, the Cabinet Secretary
is the de jure head of the Civil Service.
With respect, Humphrey, the Cabinet Secretary
and the Permanent Secretary to the Treasury
are de facto joint heads of the Civil Service.
Be that as it may, Frank,
we can't put up the proposal together.
I must remain aloof and judicial.
You must make the running. After weighty
consideration, I will come down on your side.
All right. One other point...
We don't want Cabinet to adjudicate on this.
— They must refer it to an impartial committee.
— Who should chair it?
— What about Professor Welsh?
— That silly old buffer?!
— That silly old buffer.
— Why?
He's asked me to put him forward as the next
chairman of the University Grants Committee.
He's desperate for the job,
so he'll understand what's required of him.
What an excellent choice.
Humphrey, I'm astonished.
The Treasury has just cancelled half
our spending plans due to the financial crisis
and now they have the temerity to put forward
a plan for a Civil Service pay rise!
And you're bouncing it through Cabinet!
I wanted all papers circulated 48 hours in
advance. Do you think I'm a complete idiot?
It is not for me to speak for Sir Frank.
I'm asking you. Speak for yourself.
You're head of the Civil Service.
— Am I indeed? How gratifying!
— For the moment.
As Cabinet Secretary,
I am most eager to reduce public spending,
but as head of the Civil Service I'm responsible
for the real dangers that arise administratively
if a pay rise does not come through very soon.
It's so difficult for me. I'm wearing two hats.
Yes, isn't that rather awkward for you?
Not if one is in two minds.
Or has two faces.
Perhaps I should relieve you of one of them?
— Oh, no, no, no. I'm perfectly happy with both.
— Faces?
Hats!
You see, Prime Minister, the problem is that
low morale will lead to the danger of a strike.
Think of the effect of that
on the social services.
And we are already experiencing difficulties
in recruitment.
— 10 applicants for every vacancy?
— Yes, but the applicants are very low quality.
With very few First Class degrees.
Most of them...have Lower Seconds.
I got a Third.
That's all right for Prime Ministers.
Sir Humphrey means civil servants.
The point is, I couldn't get this through.
There's already a backbench revolt looming.
MPs will never agree to a pay rise for civil
servants. And the Cabinet will be hostile.
May I suggest that we just ask the Cabinet
merely to agree to look at the application?
Then we'll put the matter
before an independent group of assessors.
— Who would lead these assessors?
— There's a very good man I could recommend.
Professor Welsh.
Very sound, very sensible, very careful.
I heard he was a silly old buffer.
I can't imagine
who could possibly say such a thing!
Since the most senior grades of the service
really bear the heat of the battle,
they should receive the greatest increase.
Seems very fair to me.
— So this would be the scale.
— Right.
— I haven't seen this, by the way.
— Of course not. Most improper.
Quite. Well, they're very significant increases
for Under Secretaries,
Deputy Secretaries and, um,
those of us who, um...
Exactly.
About 43%.
— Alas.
— But no more than we've earned.
I take it this paper is not for submission.
My dear Humphrey,
those are the submission papers.
Oh, yes.
— It only goes up to Appendix K.
— Sorry. Six more to follow.
Oh! No danger of their wading through all those.
Where's the one-page summary for the Cabinet?
The Janet and John bit?
Here it is.
It's more or less the same as last time.
Comparable jobs in industry.
— On whose salary are the comparisons based?
— The directors of BP and IBM, naturally.
You don't think that might be challenged
as untypical and above average?
No. Of course, we don't mention them
by name. Just ''typical industrial firms''.
Then we take our own examples of increases
from the lowest point of the incremental scale.
— As before.
— Principal examples are there at the end.
�3.50 a week for a messenger.
�4.20 for a registry clerk.
�8.20 for a scientific officer. Hardly anything.
So it would be �26,000 a year extra for us?
More or less.
— You haven't mentioned that, I hope.
— My dear Humphrey...
Frank, you don't think there's a danger
that someone might go into this in detail?
— Not that there's anything wrong with it.
— But who? Ministers are only briefed by us.
We're all loyal members of the service.
Yes. I'll get it in last item before lunch
on the Cabinet's agenda.
— They won't spend more than 5 minutes on it.
— Plain sailing.
Apart from the rigorous scrutiny
of Professor Welsh.
Your Chief Political Advisor is on the phone.
Thank you. Put her through. ..Dorothy?
I'm doing a paper on this Civil Service pay claim,
but I can give an immediate response.
— Yes, please. What's your answer?
— It's a series of questions.
— For me?
— For Sir Humphrey.
The claim is self-serving and inappropriate,
and significant for what it leaves unanswered.
— Right. Fire away.
— You should treat this as highly confidential.
First of all, you should ask what deduction...
Yes...
Triffic!
Oh, George, that's for you, I think.
All right for me to go in, Bernard?
Uh, yes. Sir Humphrey,
can I just mention one thing?
Yes, Bernard?
— There has been movement.
— On what subject?
On a subject we hoped for no movement.
The Civil Service generally hopes
there will be no movement on any subject!
Uh, yes, what I mean is it's in relation to
a subject that is normally wholly and exclusively
within the control of the Civil Service
that developments have developed.
— You're speaking in riddles!
— Oh, thank you.
That was NOT a compliment, Bernard!
Make yourself clear, please.
I'm sorry, Sir Humphrey, my lips are sealed.
I am referring to minutes that I was duty bound
to make of a confidential conversation
between the Prime Minister and an advisor.
— Which advisor?
— I cannot divulge her name.
Thank you, Bernard. And this confidential
advice was to do with the financial crisis?
— No, much more important.
— Not his silly nuclear strategy?
— Much more important.
— You don't mean the Civil Service pay claim?!
I see. What do you advise, Bernard?
I advise you consider your position carefully,
perhaps adopting a more flexible posture,
while keeping your ear to the ground,
covering your retreat and watching your rear.
Thank you, Bernard. You've been a great help.
Actually, I haven't told you anything.
— I should hope not. That's most improper.
— Prime Minister, Sir Humphrey's here.
Flexible.
— Ah, Humphrey! Come in.
— Thank you, Prime Minister.
Tell me what you think of this.
What do you make of it?
— It is rather large for instant judgement.
— Only read the one-page summary.
— Ah. Oh, good.
— Well?
Well?
Prime Minister, you place me
in a very difficult position.
Do I, Humphrey? You have to have loyalty
to your colleagues, but also to Cabinet policies.
— I agree.
— You agree?
— Yes.
— With me?
— I agree with you.
— I...ah... I don't... Who do you agree with?
— With you.
— Not with Sir Frank?
— No.
— You're not arguing with me?
No.
Perhaps I haven't made myself quite clear.
I agree with you!
Well, what do you make of that pay claim?
Well, it's not excessive in itself,
but at a time of national stringency
it is neither wise nor in the national interest.
I don't like to criticise my colleague, but...
In my view, Sir Frank,
though no doubt acting from the best of motives,
should have placed the good of the nation
before the narrower interests of civil servants.
You see, this claim raises serious questions.
That's interesting.
I've made a note of some questions, too.
Good questions. Where did they come from?
— Oh, occurred to me.
— Yes.
They're...VERY good questions.
Yes, that's what I thought. What should we do?
— We should ask them.
— Ask who?
Sir Frank.
You ought to invite him here to discuss them.
He may well know the answers.
Indeed, he should know them.
That's his job, after all.
Yes. Thank you. Arrange that, Bernard.
I must say I appreciate your impartiality.
You'd gain quite a lot yourself
if it were to go through.
Well, I suppose so, Prime Minister,
but I see the rewards of this job
as the knowledge...
..that we've been of service to the nation, not
to ourselves. Don't you agree, Prime Minister?
— I agree. Thank you, Humphrey.
— Thank you, Prime Minister.
— Humphrey's very fair-minded, isn't he?
— Oh, yes, Prime Minister.
If there were a conflict of interests,
which side are the Civil Service really on?
The winning side, Prime Minister.
Ah, thank you, Billy. It was very painful for me
not to be able to support Frank's case.
— Deeply distressing.
— But he was going to lose.
And that Wainwright female had suggested
that they stop us handling our own pay claims
and let a Select Committee decide on them!
Appalling! Next thing you'd have
is politicians removing civil servants
on the grounds of incompetence!
The thin end of the wedge.
Arnold, I need your help.
Clearly, Frank's claim is discredited,
but I need to get us the pay rise
to consolidate my position.
What did you do?
— You say Frank used the normal formula?
— That's right.
— And you need 43%. Hm.
— Thereabouts.
Well, since virtually all the relevant staff
work in London,
start with a big increase in the London allowance.
Allowances count as expenses.
— They don't show in the percentage calculation.
— London allowance.
Then introduce a special graduate allowance
for those with Firsts and Upper Seconds.
— To aid recruitment.
— Oxford doesn't give Upper Seconds.
A second at Oxford counts as an Upper Second,
at least.
Then you double the Outstanding Merit awards.
I take it people still get them?
Oh, yes. Everyone.
They don't count as rises either. Getting there?
— That gets us down to only about 18%.
— Since last time?
Then don't calculate from last time.
Calculate from 1973, the high point.
And don't just take it to this year. Take it up
to two years' time, the end of the claim period.
Correcting for inflation, that should do it.
Excellent. The percentage increases will sound
all right now, but that still leaves a problem.
The overall Civil Service pay bill
will still be too high.
— Easy. Reduce the size of the Civil Service.
— What?!
If the service were smaller than last time,
a comfortable rise for individuals looks smaller.
Real reductions in the size of the service?!
It would be the end of civilisation as we know it!
No, my dear Humphrey.
All you do is stop calling them civil servants.
Take the museums, for instance.
If you turn them into independent trusts,
the staff stop being classified as civil servants.
They're still the same people doing the same job
and still paid by government grants,
but as it's a grant it doesn't count in the pay
statistics. Unless anyone inquires closely,
it will look like a cutback.
— Can we set up so many trusts in time?
— You won't have to. It only has to be planned.
If it doesn't happen, it won't be your fault.
Meanwhile, you should be able
to get the rise to work out at 6% overall.
— Thank you, Arnold. That's a great help.
— Always happy to oblige.
Especially with the birthday honours coming up.
Should I talk to Frank about this, too?
Em...oh, no, Arnold. Leave it to me.
Frank's got a lot of problems coming up.
— Really? He hasn't mentioned them.
— Because he doesn't know about them yet.
And Civil Service pay has fallen significantly
behind comparable jobs in industry.
What comparable jobs?
Well, it's quite a complex formula,
but it has been accepted for some time.
I understand that a Permanent Secretary
earns over �45,000 a year.
Cabinet Secretary and Permanent Secretary
to the Treasury earn in excess of �51,000.
Um...maybe you're right.
Don't you know how much you earn, Frank,
or has it just slipped your memory?
Yes, but if that's what industry is paying...
— What do you think, Humphrey?
— It's not for me to say.
Sir Frank is in charge of Civil Service pay.
— Prime Minister, may I ask a question?
— Yes.
What deduction do you make for job security?
— I beg your pardon?
— Top people in industry can get sacked.
They can go bust, but your jobs are guaranteed.
— There are swings and roundabouts.
— What roundabouts?
— Long hours.
— Don't those happen in industry?
Industrial leaders must stand by decisions.
— So do civil servants.
— Really? I thought ministers took decisions.
— And the blame. That's the deal, isn't it?
— Yes, ministers do take the decisions.
Civil servants must decide how to carry it out.
— Like a secretary laying out a letter.
— Yes.
No! Um... Sir Humphrey knows what I mean.
It's up to you, Frank.
You're in charge of Civil Service pay.
What about the service element?
Service element? What do you mean?
Er...
— The job has a strong element of service.
— Absolutely.
Rewarded by CBs and KCMGs
and knighthoods...Sir Frank.
To an extent.
I wonder whether we shouldn't compare
civil servants with directors of charities
rather than industries. They get �17,000 a year
on average, rather than �75,000.
— That's an interesting proposal.
— Oh, no, I don't think... We'd never recruit.
Morale would plummet.
I'm sure Sir Humphrey would agree.
— Humphrey?
— Well, it's my opinion that...
..Sir Frank is in charge of Civil Service pay.
I do think the Prime Minister is entitled
to an answer, Frank.
— Then there are indexed pensions.
— Oh, well, those were agreed a long time ago.
— They're of considerable value.
— Of value, yes, but modest.
I have an estimate that it would cost �650,000
to buy back a Permanent Secretary's pension.
— Absurd.
— How do you value it?
— Er, about �100,000.
— In that case, I'll make you a deal, Frank.
The government will buy back your pension
and anyone else's who is willing to sell
at your own valuation. We'll pay you
�100,000 in cash for your pension rights. OK?
I was talking out of my...off the top
of my head. It could be...that is...
I haven't calculated it myself.
The figure of �650,000 comes from the Society
of Insurance and Pension Actuaries.
Yes, but when it was agreed
I'm sure it was nothing like that.
What about this for an idea? An indexed
pension could be an alternative to honours.
Every civil servant could choose
to take his reward as honours or cash.
— That's preposterous!
— Why?
— Yes, why?
— Well, it, it, it, it, it...
It would put us - put THEM - in an impossible
position. Some already have honours.
They could choose whether to renounce
their honour or their pension indexing.
What do you think, Sir Humphrey?
Or will you be Mr Appleby?
I'm sure that Sir Frank has gone into this
very thoroughly.
Not thoroughly enough.
You'd stand to gain quite a lot personally.
Prime Minister, that is not a consideration.
You'd be happy to be personally excluded
from this rise?
I know the Cabinet Secretary would be.
Well, of course, the question is...
in essence...not as a precedent...
..thinking of the service as a whole...
..fr-fr-fr-from the long-term point of view...
as a matter of principle...
— Go on.
— Well, of course...
..IF...
..if...the government did believe
that senior people should be paid less
than their subordinates,
and if the principle were extended
to Cabinet ministers and junior ministers.
Anyway, Frank,
thank you very much for coming in.
Thank you, Prime Minister.
— What do you make of that? A bit hard?
— No. Most proper and penetrating questions.
— What happens now?
— I'd like a word in private.
— I was just going.
— Good.
— Thank you very much indeed.
— Dear lady.
Not as dear as a Cabinet Secretary, Humphrey.
This is so difficult for me. One does so hate
to be disloyal to one's colleagues.
Clearly you've never been a Cabinet minister!
I'd felt all along, at a time of stringency,
that the Treasury claim was too high.
Not in the nation's interests. Very nice for us,
but not something the Cabinet Secretary
with his higher loyalty could recommend.
It's why we don't let the Permanent Secretary
to the Treasury be head of the Civil Service.
So I've taken the liberty of drawing up
a much more modest submission
which is only 11% over two years
with the top grades rising by only the average
and the overall Civil Service pay bill
going up by only 6% a year over the period.
This looks much more reasonable.
Yes. The lower grades will have to go through
the normal procedures,
but I suggest that the First Division claim
should be processed with secrecy.
— Secrecy? Why?
— If there were widespread discussion,
it might backfire. Some of our people
might want to put in a much bigger claim.
Much better to present a fait accompli.
And may I advise against letting...advisors see it?
Are you sure your colleagues would accept 6%?
If I had your support and co-operation, yes.
It's still got to get through Parliament.
Backbenchers hate Civil Service pay rises.
Oh! How interesting you should say that!
I was just about to make a suggestion,
a major reform.
Well, if MPs' salaries were to be linked
to a grade in the Civil Service,
they wouldn't need to vote themselves pay rises
all the time.
If the Civil Service got one, they'd get one.
And if MPs' pensions were index-linked,
it would make them much less hostile
to Civil Service pay claims.
It certainly would. Excellent.
— Thank you, Humphrey.
— Prime Minister.
What grade ought backbenchers be?
— Senior Principals.
— Isn't that rather low?
Backbenchers are rather low.
— And what grade for Cabinet ministers?
— Under Secretaries.
And the Prime Minister?
Well, at the moment,
you earn even less than I do.
Why don't you grade yourself
as a Permanent Secretary?
— Thank you, Humphrey.
— After all, this is a partnership.
— Yes. A real partnership.
— Yes, Prime Minister.
I got some frightful pressure from the American
ambassador at that drinkies do last night.
— Ah.
— They'd heard about my cancelling Trident.
Ah.
The American defence industries
are big contributors to the President.
— Ah.
— He said we had a big problem in East Yemen.
Ah?
Stop saying ''ah'' like that, Bernard.
I'm not your doctor.
— I'm sorry.
— What is this big problem?
Ah...
— Thank you, Bernard.
— I'll try to find out.
— He muttered about St George's Island.
— St George's Island?
— Yes. There IS a St George's Island?
— Yes, it's in the Commonwealth.
Ah, I see, yes. THAT St George's Island.
— He's afraid Communists might try to grab it.
— What did you say?
— I'd ask the Foreign Office.
— What did he say?
The White House thinks
the Foreign Office is full of pinkos.
No, it's not. Well, not full.
They don't want the Reds to get
a strategic base like St George's Island.
He spoke about putting tariffs on British
exports to the USA and taxing US investment,
causing a run on the pound.
Can't you get the Foreign Secretary
to sort it out? After all, they are on our side.
— Who are?
— The Americans.
I thought you meant the Foreign Office.
What's the Foreign Office worried about, Dick?
The Foreign Secretary eats out of your hand.
— Oh, yes. Completely house-trained.
— So?
The Prime Minister's the problem.
He's starting to mistrust our advice.
— He even questioned Foreign Office policy.
— Surely not!
There's even a danger
the Cabinet may pursue its own foreign policy.
But that's absurd.
The country can't have two foreign policies!
Quite. And the PM's getting far too keen
on keeping the White House happy.
Dear, oh, dear. So, how can I help?
There are a couple of things coming up
where he might need guiding.
— One is St George's Island.
— Ah. Oh, yes, yes, yes.
Remind me, would you, Dick?
As you know, it's one of the few islands
in the Indian Ocean to stay in the Commonwealth.
Oh, yes, that's right. It's quite democratic.
Yes. Free elections and everything.
But there's a group of Marxist guerrillas
in the mountains. We hear they're planning a coup.
Well, these things will happen.
They're not thinking of starting it
on their own. East Yemen is helping.
— Isn't that a democracy?
— People's Democratic Republic of East Yemen.
Oh, I see. It's a Communist dictatorship.
And the guerrillas are Soviet-backed?
Yes, and Libyan-backed. Obviously, we in
the Foreign Office are staying right out of it.
Obviously.
It would only upset
a load of frontline African states.
And we don't want to antagonise the Soviets.
Quite. And we've just landed a huge contract
to build a new St George's airport and harbour.
If we back the wrong side, we may lose it.
We don't mind which side wins,
the democrats or the Marxists?
Why should we? But you see the problem.
If the PM gets into one of his ghastly
patriotic Churchillian moods, he may intervene.
All that pro-British,
defending democracy nonsense.
Oh, I know, I know.
He must understand that once you start interfering
in the internal squabbles of other countries,
you're on a very slippery slope.
Even the Foreign Secretary's grasped that.
Really? So what was the other point?
The Arabs have put down a motion
at the United Nations condemning Israel.
— Naturally, we'll vote on the Arab side.
— Naturally.
— But I gather the PM wants us to abstain.
— Surely not! Why?
Something about the PLO starting it this time,
faults on both sides. Sentimental nonsense.
Sucking up to the Americans, as always.
Just help him to realise that,
as far as foreign affairs are concerned,
his job is to confine himself
to the hospitality and ceremonial role.
I'll do my best, but you know what happens
when politicians get into Number 10.
They want their place on the world stage.
People on stages are called actors.
All they're required to do is look plausible,
stay sober and say the lines they're given.
Some of them try to make up their own lines.
They don't last long.
The American ambassador
had a word with me last night.
— About what?
— What do you know about St George's Island?
What do YOU know about it?
Well, you're the Foreign Secretary, not me!
Is there any danger of a Communist takeover?
— Well, did he say there was?
— He hinted.
No. No chance at all. No chance at all.
The Foreign Office would have told me.
— You're sure they always tell you everything?
— Well, everything they think I should know.
That's what I'm afraid of. The Americans are
worried and we can't afford to upset them now.
— I'm sure we've got everything under control.
— Chamberlain thought Hitler was under control.
— Ah, well, Chamberlain.
— Eden thought Nasser was under control.
— The F.O. doesn't know what it's doing?
— No, they don't tell us what they're doing!
Absurd. They give me a full answer
to any questions I ask.
— And the ones you don't ask?
— Such as?
— Such as about St George's Island.
— Ah, well, I don't ask those.
— Well, just ask them. For me. All right?
— Yes, of course.
But once you interfere in other countries' internal
squabbles, you're on a very slippery slope.
Anything else?
Yes, I gather we're proposing to vote
against Israel in the UN tonight. Why?
— They bombed the PLO.
— The PLO bombed Israel.
— But the Israelis dropped more bombs!
— The PLO started it!
— No, they didn't.
— It seems to me there are faults on both sides.
— Not according to my advice.
— America is worried. They want us to abstain.
I don't think we could do that.
The Foreign Office wouldn't wear it.
Are they here to follow our instructions
or are we to follow theirs?
Now, don't be silly.
Prime Minister, Sir Humphrey's here.
— Prime Minister.
— Humphrey, I'm worried.
Oh, what about, Prime Minister?
— About the Americans.
— Well, we're all worried about the Americans.
— Foreign affairs are a complicated business.
— That's why we leave it to the Foreign Office.
I've got to keep in with the Americans
if I'm to cancel our defence order.
— Ah.
— I gather that they're worried about us.
Of course they are,
but I know how to keep in with them.
— How?
— Don't cancel the huge defence order.
No, Humphrey, I'm determined on that,
but we mustn't upset them in any other way.
The ambassador mentioned St George's Island.
— Oh, really?
— What's going on in that part of the world?
What part of the world?
That part. The part where St George's Island is.
What part is that?
— I suggest you go and have a look at the map!
— No, I do know, Prime Minister.
Good. Then we both know.
The White House is worried
it might be taken over by Marxists.
— It's not funny, Humphrey.
— No, indeed. Rather touching, really.
Prime Minister, once you start interfering
in the internal squabbles of other countries,
you're on a very slippery slope.
— That's what the Foreign Secretary said.
— Extraordinary.
Then there's the U.N. vote on Israel tonight.
The Americans want us to abstain.
It's a question of maintaining our relationship
with the Arabs. The power of Islam.
Oil supplies.
I'm talking about what's right and wrong.
Well, don't let the Foreign Office hear you.
If you insist on an even-handed approach,
the Foreign Office might agree to abstaining,
so long as you authorise our man there
to make a powerful speech attacking Zionism.
Surely we should promote
peace, harmony, goodwill.
Well, it would be most unusual.
The U.N. is the accepted forum
for the expression of international hatred.
— And defending democracy on St George's?
— Not if it harms us by upsetting our friends.
Britain should not support law and justice?
Of course we should. We just shouldn't
let it affect our foreign policy, that's all.
We must fight for the weak against the strong.
Then send troops to Afghanistan
to fight the Russians.
The Russians are too strong.
What was that about law and justice?
I want assurances sent
to the Prime Minister of St George's Island
that Britain will stand by him.
— Discuss this with the Foreign Secretary.
— Thank you, Humphrey.
— Thank you, Prime Minister.
— You've been a great help (!)
— Bernard?
— Yes, Prime Minister?
Where exactly is St George's Island?
Um...
— Shall we look at the globe?
— Good idea.
— Good afternoon, Luke.
— Good afternoon, Prime Minister.
Now, where is it?
Eh...
— It's here, in the Arabian Sea.
— Near the Persian Gulf.
The lifeline of the West. There's Afghanistan,
now under Soviet control.
Only 400 miles north of the Arabian Sea.
— If the Soviets ever took Pakistan...
— Which they wouldn't.
If they did, they'd control the Persian Gulf,
the Arabian Sea and the Indian Ocean.
They've always wanted a ''warm water port''.
They wouldn't invade Pakistan. The Americans
have a fleet permanently stationed here.
The Indian Ocean.
Prime Minister,
may I have a word about...home affairs?
— Home affairs?
— Yes.
— We're discussing foreign affairs.
— No, Prime Minister, it's rather urgent.
— Are you all right, Bernard?
— Yes, Prime Minister. Please.
Very well. Excuse me, Luke.
— What on earth's the matter?
— I don't want to be disloyal,
but it wasn't a good idea to continue
that conversation in front of Luke. Security.
He's your colleague, one of my private
secretaries. What is MI6 up to...?
— Not that sort of risk. He works for the F.O.
— He works for me.
Eh...yes, but he's not only your man
from the Foreign Office,
he's also their man in Number 10.
He's a plant.
Oh. Ah.
Oh.
— Do you understand?
— Yes. No!
— The F.O. is keeping something from me?
— Yes.
— What?
— I don't know. They're keeping it from me, too.
— Then how do you know?
— I don't know.
How do you know if you don't know?!
I don't know specifically what, but I do know
they always keep everything from everybody.
— It's normal practice.
— Who does know?
May I just clarify the question?
You are asking who would know what it is that I
don't know and you don't know but the F.O. know
that they keep from you so you don't know and
all we know is there is something we don't know
and we want to know, but we don't know what
because we don't know? Is that it?
May I clarify? Who knows Foreign Office
secrets apart from the Foreign Office?
Oh, that's easy. Only the Kremlin.
This bother about St George's Island
is getting to be a bore.
We made the real mistake
giving them their independence.
Wasn't that right? Wind of change and all?
Yes, but not that way.
We should have partitioned the island.
Like we did in India, Cyprus and Palestine?
And Ireland?
Yes, that was our invariable practice
with the colonies. It always worked.
But didn't partition always lead to civil war?
— As in India, Cyprus, Palestine and Ireland.
— Yes, but it kept them busy.
Instead of fighting other people,
they fought each other.
Yes, rather good. Saved us having a policy.
Cheers.
— Sir Humphrey?
— Yes, Bernard?
— Um, Sir Humphrey...
— Yes, Bernard?
— Could I have a word?
— Yes, Bernard?
— With both of you.
— Yes. What about?
— St George's.
— What now?
The PM seems to be completely in the dark.
— Good.
— Excellent. Anything else?
I wonder, is there anything he doesn't know?
I hardly know where to begin, Bernard.
— No, I mean anything important.
— He has the Foreign Secretary to tell him.
— He seems to think HE doesn't know either.
— I should hope not!
— Are you implying that he ought to know?
— Well, he IS the Prime Minister.
Bernard, it's simply too dangerous to let
politicians become involved with diplomacy.
Diplomacy is about surviving until the next
century. Politics is about surviving to Friday!
There are 157 independent countries
in the world. We've dealt with them for years.
There's hardly an MP who knows anything.
Show them a map of the world,
most have a job finding the Isle of Wight.
Surely politicians can't be that ignorant?
Very well. Sit down, Bernard.
— Where is the Upper Volta?
— Em...
— What's the capital of Chad?
— Um...
— What language do they speak in Mali?
— Em...
— Who's the president of Peru?
— Um...
What is the national religion of Cameroon?
— Em...
— Bernard?
You should stand for Parliament.
No, what I mean is if it's a democracy,
shouldn't people sort of discuss things a bit?
— Of course. Full discussion.
— And have the facts?
Of course not! They don't want them.
Facts complicate things.
All the press, the people and their leaders want
to know is who are the goodies and baddies.
The interests of Britain nearly always involve
doing deals with people they think are baddies.
And not helping the goodies occasionally.
So we avoid discussion of foreign affairs.
Or rather we keep it inside the Foreign Office
then we produce one policy for the Foreign
Secretary, which is our considered view.
— No options? No alternatives?
— None.
— What if he's not satisfied?
— If pressed, we look at it again.
— And come up with a different view?
— Of course not! The same view.
— What if he demands options?
— It's obvious.
The F.O. present him with three options,
two of which are, in fact, exactly the same.
And the third is totally unacceptable.
Like bombing Warsaw or invading France.
We occasionally encourage the Foreign
Secretary to produce his own policy,
then we tell him it will inevitably lead to
World War Three, perhaps within 48 hours.
— I see. I'm sorry to appear stupid...
— Oh, perish the thought, Bernard.
In my experience, ministers are concerned
about the effect of policy on domestic opinion.
Our system doesn't seem to allow for that.
Of course not. We take the global view.
We ask what's best for the world.
Most ministers would ask
what will the ''Daily Mail'' say!
We can't have foreign policy made by yobbos
like Fleet Street editors or backbench MPs!
— Or Cabinet ministers.
We take the right decisions
and let them sort out the politics.
— [KNOCKING]
— Yes? Yes, come in, Mrs Whitmore.
— Thank you.
— If the Foreign Secretary won't accept this...?
It's a free country. He can always resign.
How can you treat the PM like this?
After all, St George's IS a democracy!
Not for long.
The East Yemen are preparing to invade
in support of the Marxist guerrillas.
— That's awful.
— Yes and no.
Moderately bad news for the government
of St George's, but very good for the guerrillas.
— What about the islanders?
— Bernard, you're reacting like a politician.
— What are we going to do to help them?
— Nothing.
— What if St George's appeals to us?
— We'll give them every support, short of help.
— What if the Prime Minister insists?
— Then we follow the four-stage strategy.
— What's that?
— Standard F.O. response in a time of crisis.
In stage one we say nothing is going to happen.
Stage two, it may happen,
but we should do nothing.
Stage three, maybe we should do something,
but there's nothing we CAN do.
Stage four, maybe there was something
we could have done, but it's too late now.
Afternoon telegrams, Prime Minister.
Thank you, Luke.
— Where's Bernard?
— I think he's with Sir Humphrey.
— Troop movements in East Yemen?
— It's not significant.
The American ambassador mentioned it.
Really? I'm surprised he'd heard of it.
— What are they up to?
— Just preparing a regular raid on West Yemen.
— Nothing for us to worry about?
— Nothing at all.
He said something about St George's, too.
Really? Educated man.
For an American.
— Is there a problem there?
— No, no, no. Just the normal local squabbles.
— He was worried about a Communist takeover.
— Americans always are.
Luke! Have you read this?
— We voted against Israel in the U.N. last night!
— Yes, Prime Minister.
— But I gave express instructions to abstain.
— I think not.
I said I felt very strongly
that we should not take sides.
— The Foreign Secretary noted your feeling.
— But did nothing about it!
With respect, he did. He asked our U.N.
ambassador if we should consider abstaining.
— What did HE do?
— He said no.
You mean the Foreign Office
can simply ignore the Prime Minister?!
Certainly not, Prime Minister. They take full
account of you when coming to their decision,
but events move rapidly. There were important
factors in our relationship with the Arabs
that were not known to you when you took your
view. We couldn't get through to you in time.
I am on the phone, you know.
It wasn't sufficiently important to wake you.
It was! The White House will do its nut!
You could be telephoned before every U.N. vote,
but there are two or three a night.
— What can I do to reverse this?
— Nothing. That would be most embarrassing.
Once stated, policy can't be retracted.
— I'd like to talk to the Israeli ambassador.
— I think not, Prime Minister.
I want to talk to the Israeli ambassador.
If I may say so, it would be rather unwise.
Luke! Can you hear me? Watch my lips!
I want to talk to the Israeli ambassador!
Of course, Prime Minister, if that is your wish.
I will contact the Foreign Secretary
and then telephone...
I don't want the Foreign Secretary!
Prime Minister, it would be most improper to
see him without the Foreign Secretary present.
— Why? What do you think I want to talk about?
— Presumably the vote at the U.N.
— That would be most improper.
— Oh.
My daughter Lucy wishes to spend
her next long vacation on a kibbutz.
Or I should say, as she's
at the University of Sussex, another kibbutz.
— I see.
— The ambassador and I were at the LSE.
I thought I'd invite him to the flat tonight
for a drink. 6 p.m. See to it, would you, Luke?
— Yes, Prime Minister.
— Thank you.
— Don't be upset, Jim. It happens all the time.
— I told them to abstain.
It's well known that in the British Foreign
Office an instruction from the Prime Minister
becomes a request from the Foreign Secretary,
a recommendation from the Minister of State
and, finally, a suggestion to the ambassador.
If it ever gets that far.
Thank you. L'Chaim.
Cheers.
Well, Jim, what are you going to do
about St George's?
— You know about that?
— Obviously.
— Not a serious problem, is it?
— Your information must be better than mine.
Mine comes from the Foreign Office.
Israeli Intelligence says
that East Yemen are going to invade
St George's Island in the next few days.
What?!
— So that's the connection.
— Your Foreign Office agreed with East Yemen
that they'll make strong diplomatic
representations, but do nothing.
— In return, you keep your airport contract.
— There will be uproar!
That's only the start.
I happen to know that the Americans are going
to support the present St George's government.
— In the U.N...?
— No, in battle. On St George's Island.
An airborne division and the Seventh Fleet.
Invading a Commonwealth country?!
The Palace will hit the roof. And I'll look ridiculous.
— Why didn't they tell me?
— They don't trust you.
— Because you trust the Foreign Office.
— Oh, I see. What can I do about it?
Jim, you have an airborne battalion
on standby in Germany
that is not now needed for the NATO exercise.
— How do you know?
— I know.
Now, if you were to send it to St George's Island,
it would frighten off East Yemen.
They'd never dare invade.
Of course, it's not for the Israeli ambassador
to advise the British Prime Minister.
And he wouldn't take your advice anyway.
Get me the Foreign Secretary
and the Defence Secretary.
I wonder why the Foreign Office didn't
cover themselves. Maybe they did.
They gave me several boxes tonight.
I've been through them all except this one.
I wonder if this could be it.
''Northern Indian Ocean Situation Report''.
It's 138 pages. It must be it.

🎬 [TELEPHONE RINGS]

Hello? Yes, Ronnie.
I want the president of St George's Island
to invite Britain to send an airborne battalion
on a goodwill visit.
No, just a friendly gesture. Goodwill.
Yes, at once, please. Thank you.
He seemed to think that 800 paratroopers
was an awful lot to send on a goodwill visit.
No, it's just an awful lot of goodwill.

🎬 [TELEPHONE RINGS]

Oh, yes, Paul. You know you have
an airborne battalion on standby in Germany?
Never mind how I know.
Well, since it's not being used, I want them
to fly straight off to St George's Island.
Sort of between Africa and India.
A goodwill visit. Just showing the flag.
They have been invited. Yes. Leave in...six hours.
Yes, an instant goodwill visit.
Tell your press office to announce it at once.
No, no, leave me out of it. A routine visit.
All right - a routine surprise visit.
Well, say they were invited earlier,
but the NATO exercise got in the way.
Now they're not needed, they're going.
All right. Nobody knows it's not true.
Press statements aren't delivered under oath.
They'll be off at midnight.
— There's an airborne battalion in the air.
— Sounds like the right place for it!
— I gather it's on its way to St George's.
— Yes, it should land in two hours' time.
— Isn't this all rather sudden?
— I had a sudden friendly impulse.
— I wanted to spread a little goodwill.
— There's not much goodwill in the F.O.
— Really? Why not?
— It might be construed as provocative,
sending a fully-armed airborne battalion
like that into an explosive situation.
— I thought there was no problem there.
— Eh...well, yes, indeed.
There is no problem, but it's explosive potentially.
— Why?
— Moving troops is always potentially explosive.
We move them around Salisbury Plain.
Is that potentially explosive?
There are a lot of unexploded shells on...
Thank you, Bernard. Do tell me why
the Foreign Office is worried. I'm fascinated.
— It's a sensitive part of the world. Unstable.
— They always tell me how stable it is.
Well, yes, indeed it is...very,
but it's a sort of...unstable sort of stability.
— Excuse me, Sir Humphrey.
— Yes, Luke.
— Foreign Office telegrams.
— Thank you, Luke. Oh, gosh. Rather a lot.
Yes, the somewhat unorthodox visit
to St George's has stirred things up.
Ah, I see East Yemen
is moving its troops back to base.
— Yes, Prime Minister.
— Decided not to invade West Yemen?
— So it seems.
— Oh, this is nice.
The Americans are delighted by our visit.
That's good.
Excellent, Prime Minister.
— They're ready if we want reinforcements.
— Reinforcements of what?
Reinforcements of goodwill, Humphrey.
May I inquire where the impulse
for this little escapade came from?
— Of course you may. It came from Luke.
— Luke?!
From me?
It was you who put together that masterly
Northern Indian Ocean Situation Report?
Yes, but it argued for not doing anything.
— Come off it, Luke. You can't fool me.
— What?!
I can read between the lines.
Some politicians have a feeling for foreign affairs.
I knew you meant St George's needed support.
Oh, yes. Well, no, actually.
Only in one paragraph on page 107.
It was enough. I can take the hint.
I'm giving you full credit. I told the Foreign
Secretary it was your warning sparked it off.
No, no, it wasn't! You haven't?!
And I don't think I'm giving away any secrets
when I say you are going to be rewarded.
— Rewarded?
— Ambassador at a very important embassy.
— Which embassy?
— Tel Aviv.
Oh, my God! You can't send me to Israel.
Think about my career.
Don't be absurd. It's an honour. Promotion.
They won't want me. I'm on the Arab side.
— I thought you were on OUR side.
— Of course, yes, but...
We need somebody like you in Tel Aviv
to explain why we always vote against them.
Don't we, Humphrey?
Yes, Prime Minister.

[TV]
Growing concern for Fiona McGregor,
the nurse held in the Gulf state of Kumran
for alleged possession of a bottle of whisky.
Her sentence of 10 years' imprisonment
and 40 lashes is awaiting confirmation.
Today, her mother, accompanied by her MP,
Stuart Gordon, and a group of sympathisers,
took a petition to the Kumran embassy,
but the Kumrani's refused to accept it.
The Foreign Secretary described the incident
as regrettable, but no action is planned.
Turn it off, Bernard.
This is very worrying.
There's a lot of public sympathy.
I'm sure the Foreign Secretary will advise you.
— He advises me to do nothing.
— I'm sure that's good advice.
If we do nothing, we look heartless. And feeble.
It doesn't do the government any good to look
heartless and feeble simultaneously. Bernard?
Perhaps you could arrange it so you only look
heartless and feeble alternately.
— Humphrey, we must do something.
— The Kumranis are good friends of Britain.
They placed a huge defence contract with us,
they tell us about the Soviets in Iraq,
they even sabotage OPEC agreements for us.
We can't afford to upset them.
I know, but a British national is facing
a barbaric punishment for a trivial offence.
The Foreign Office is there
to protect British nationals.
— To protect British interests.
— It's not in her interest to be flogged.
— It's not in ours to prevent it.
— This could hurt the government very badly.
Well, I understand that tomorrow the Foreign
Secretary will deliver a strong note of protest.
— Why can't he do it now?
— We haven't got their agreement yet.
We're seeing the ambassador privately now.
Once they approve the wording, we hand it over.
— Then we'll have done all we can.
— Very heartless.
It's safer to be heartless than mindless.
History is the triumph of the heartless
over the mindless.
— The Cabinet will never agree to this policy.
— The F.O. never expect that for their policies.
That's why they never fully explain them.
— Even to the Foreign Secretary?
— Especially not to the Foreign Secretary.
All that the Foreign Office requires
is that the Cabinet agree to their decisions
once they've been taken.
Will that be all? I have a dinner engagement.
— Yes, I suppose so.
— It's time to get ready for the reception.
— Oh, who's coming?
— The synod of the Church of England.
There's a vacancy in Bury St Edmunds.
— They come here when a bishopric is vacant.
— Why?
To lobby. So you don't choose the wrong name.
— How should I know which one to choose?
— It's like any Civil Service option.
It will be a conjuring trick.
Take any card, you always end up
with the card the magician forced you to take.
— Suppose I don't take it?
— You will.
Who are these cards?
With the Church, you usually get the choice
of a knave or a queen.
We do appreciate you dining at the college.
Always a pleasure to dine with old friends.
Thank you, Master.
Humphrey, I'll be retiring in four or five years.
Isn't that roughly when you retire?
Yes.
The Bursar and I think you could be just
the chap to succeed me as Master of Ballie.
Really?
But there is one obstacle. The Dean.
— Why is he an obstacle?
— He says you're too clever by half.
I should have thought that at Oxford to be
called clever might be rather a compliment.
— He also says you're smug.
— Thank you, Bursar.
Well, you've got a lot to be smug about.
If I had �75,000 a year,
a knighthood, an index-linked pension,
and a bunch of politicians to take the blame
for all my mistakes, I'd be pretty smug myself!
The Dean is paranoid that we're intriguing
in this matter behind his back.
That is why we decided to...discuss it
with you while he's away.
Quite.
The only way you'll become Master of Baillie
is if we can dump the Dean.
— But how?
— It isn't easy. He's a lazy devil.
He only has to do four hours' work a week.
Give one lecture and a couple of tutorials
and he's got tenure for life!
Only two interests - cricket and steam engines.
Never reads a new book, thinks a new thought.
So being an Oxford don is the perfect job.
So what would get him away from Baillie?
— Only a bishopric.
— A bishopric?
We wondered about Bury St Edmunds.
That's up for grabs, isn't it?
Yes, a very agreeable diocese.
It has a seat in the Lords.
The Dean would like that. His third hobby
is sucking up to the aristocracy.
Naturally. Well, it's not up to me at all.
— The Church wants to maintain the balance.
— What balance?
Between those who believe in God
and those who don't.
Is there anyone in the Church who doesn't?
Oh, yes. Most of the bishops.
But, in any case, Bury St Edmunds is all sewn up.
Canon Stanford is getting the job.
We thought the Prime Minister had to choose.
But they gave an impossible second candidate.
In any case, the Dean hasn't done
enough public service to qualify.
Are any other dioceses coming free?
Well, it doesn't happen very often.
The older appointees don't have to retire at 60.
Bishops tend to have long lives.
Apparently the Lord isn't all that keen
for them to join Him.
What sort of public service
did you have in mind for the Dean?
Well, why don't you get the bishop
to send him to Kumran,
to try to intercede on behalf of that nurse?
The Arabs love him
because he's an expert in Islamic studies.
He'd love the Arabs. Either way, we can't lose.
That's right.
— If he fails, at least he's tried.
— If he succeeds, he's a hero.
And if he doesn't come back, he won't be missed.
No, it's such an awful country.
They cut people's hands off and women
get stoned when they commit adultery.
Unlike Britain where they commit adultery
when they get stoned!
He may even come back with a few parts missing!
Look, no hands!
Sorry to be so hesitant, Peter.
I've never appointed a bishop before.
Er, recommended the appointment
to the sovereign, Prime Minister.
Yes. Tell me about Canon Stanford.
Well, Mike is very highly thought of.
He's a modernist.
— Modernist?
— A theological term.
It seems that he accepts that some events
described in the Bible are not literally true.
He sees them as metaphors, myths or legends.
He's interested in their spiritual
and philosophical truth.
He doesn't believe the world was made
in seven days and Eve came out of Adam's rib?
— Precisely.
— Sounds very sensible. Anything else?
He went to Winchester and New College,
Oxford, and his name is first on the list.
— Sounds good.
— And he has an eminently suitable wife.
Devout, full of good works?
No, I mean she's the daughter
of the Earl of Chichester.
I see. And what about the second?
Well, second is Doctor Paul Harvey.
And?
— He's an admirable man.
— But?
It's your choice, of course,
but there's a suspicion
he tends towards disestablishmentarianism.
Oh.
What?
The view that the Church of England
shouldn't be part of the state.
Some people feel it should be separate,
like Methodists or Catholics.
They think ordinary people feel the established
church is a club for the ruling classes.
Sounds a good man.
Well, it's entirely up to you,
of course, Prime Minister,
but I suspect Her Majesty might be a little
surprised if you asked her to appoint a man
who'd make her break her coronation vows
to defend the Church.
— Why's he on the list, then?
— Well, he's not quite a disestablishmentarian.
But that's the way his mind seems to be moving.
I see. So I'm being asked to choose
Mike Stanford or Mike Stanford?
The Commission is offering you
the two names which emerged.
— Was there an open election?
— No. Bishops are in the apostolic succession.
— What's that?
— It's God's will.
When Judas Iscariot blotted his copybook,
he was replaced. They let the Holy Ghost decide.
— How did he make his views known?
— By drawing lots.
Couldn't we let the Holy Ghost decide now?
No one's confident the Holy Ghost would know
what makes a good Church of England bishop.
Sir Humphrey is due here now.
Could we continue tomorrow?
Not at all. Thank you, Prime Minister.
Prime Minister, appointing Canon Stanford may
be an own goal. May I get his career details?
— Yes, please do.
— And I'll send Sir Humphrey in.
— Bernard. Prime Minister.
— Ah, Humphrey. Sherry?
Yes, thank you.
What's a modernist in the Church of England?
Ah, well, the word ''modernist''
is code for non-believer.
— You mean an atheist?
— No, no.
An atheist couldn't continue to draw his stipend,
so when they stop believing in God
they call themselves modernists.
How could the Church of England suggest
an atheist as bishop?
The Church of England is primarily
a social organisation, not religious.
— Is it?
— Part of the rich social fabric of the country.
Bishops need to be the sort of chaps who speak
properly, know which knife and fork to use.
The sort of people one can look up to.
— So Canon Stanford's wife's eminently suitable?
— Of course. Cheers.
— Is there really no other candidate?
— Well, not really.
— There were better jobs available recently.
— What's better than a bishop? A rook?
Very droll.
No, Dean of Windsor is a better job.
Or Westminster.
It enables one to be on better terms
with the Royals.
So being a bishop is just a matter of status?
Dressing up in cassocks and gaiters.
Yes, though gaiters are now only worn
at significant religious events
like the Royal garden party.
— Why?
— The Church is trying to be more relevant.
— To God?
— No, of course not.
I meant relevant in sociological terms.
So the ideal candidate in the Church's view is
a cross between a socialite and a socialist?
— Precisely.
— May I give you Canon Stanford's details?
— Please do.
— He was chaplain to the Bishop of Sheffield.
He moved on to be the diocesan advisor
on ethnic communities and social responsibility.
He organised conferences on inter-faith interface
and between Christians and Marxists,
and between Christians
and the women of Greenham Common.
He was chaplain at the University of Essex,
vice-principal at a theological college
and is now secretary to the Disarmament
Committee of the Council of Churches.
Has he ever been an ordinary vicar of a parish?
Good heavens, no. Clergymen who want
to be bishops try to avoid pastoral work.
So you're saying he's a political troublemaker?
No, but he could be a thorn in your side
on strikes, public expenditure on welfare,
inner cities, unemployment, defence.
It's interesting that nowadays
politicians want to talk about moral issues
and bishops want to talk politics.
And he'd speak with the authority of a bishop
and from the Lords.
He designed a new church in South London
with places for dispensing orange juice,
family planning and organising demos...
— But no place for Holy Communion.
— Are you serious?
— Well, there was a dual-purpose hall.
— And the Church approved this?
— Of course. The Church is run by theologians.
— So?
Well, theology is a device for enabling
agnostics to stay within the Church.
I don't want Stanford. What am I to do?
You could turn both candidates down,
but that would be exceptional and not advised.
Even though one wants God out of the Church
of England and the other wants the Queen out?
— The Queen is inseparable from the Church.
— What about God?
I think he's what's called an optional extra.
Bernard's on his way up.
Any more news about that nurse?
— No, not really.
— Can't the Foreign Office do something?
The Foreign Office is there
to explain why things can't be done.
This could damage us very badly.
All the Foreign Office does is shrug
and say we mustn't upset the Kumranis.
— Must be ghastly for her.
— Who?
Oh, that nurse. Yes.
— You don't care about her either.
— Oh, Annie.
— You're only worried about your popularity.
— That's not true.
Sorry, Prime Minister. It's rather important.
The Bishop of Banbury
and the Church Missionary Society
are sending the Dean of Baillie College
to Kumran on a mercy mission.
— An Oxford don? Why?
— He's an expert on Islam.
It's a faith to faith meeting.
All right. Tell the Foreign Office
I support their moves to support him.
No, the Foreign Office want you to stop it.
They say it's a futile gesture which will impair
our relationship with a friendly country.
But I think it's a good idea. Don't you, Annie?
— You mean it might save the nurse?
— Er, yes, that too.
Principally. All right, tell them to go ahead.
Oh, Lambeth Palace want to know
if you've decided about Bury St Edmunds.
— All right, Bernard. Thank you.
— Good night.
What's happening in Bury St Edmunds?
— I've got to choose a bishop.
— That's ridiculous!
— Why?
— You're not exactly religious.
I'm Prime Minister.
Religion has nothing to do with it.
— To do with bishops?!
— Not really.
They're just managers in fancy dress.
The Church of England has over 172,000 acres
of land, thousands of tenants,
leaseholds, property and investments
worth a total of �1.6 billion.
The ideal bishop is a corporate executive.
A sort of merchant banker,
personnel manager and estate agent.
I'd prefer you to choose a man of God.
They offered me one of those, but he wants
to turn the Church into a religious movement.
— They're trying to force a modernist on me.
— Marxist or atheist?
Both. Doesn't matter about the atheist bit,
but being a Marxist could cause me a lot
of trouble once he's in the House of Lords.
— Can't you turn him down?
— It would look political.
— You said the Church IS political.
— But it mustn't look it.
I see.
— Why not turn him down on religious grounds?
— How do you mean?
— Does he believe in Heaven and Hell?
— Of course not.
— The virgin birth? The resurrection?
— No, nothing like that.
— Isn't that enough?
— Annie, you're brilliant!
I'll reject both candidates
and force them to submit another.
I really want a candidate
who'll get on with everybody.
— Someone without strong views on anything?
— Yes.
It might help if he were inclined towards
Christianity. That wouldn't do any real harm.
So what you need is a sort of closet Christian.
Exactly. Thank you, darling.
The Six 0'Clock News from the BBC,
with Sue Lawley and Nicholas Witchell.
Good evening. News is just coming in
that after two weeks in Kumran
the Dean of Baillie College has succeeded
in obtaining the release of Fiona McGregor,
the British nurse held there in prison.
She was awaiting a sentence of 40 lashes
for possessing a bottle of whisky.
She and the Dean are expected back in England
tomorrow. Now for the rest of the news.
The pound had another bad day...
So it's true. I can't believe it.
— It's a disaster.
— Disaster!
Whose idea was it to send him to Kumran?
Eh, can't imagine. Bishop of Banbury perhaps?
— We had the situation under control.
— Yes, of course you did.
We made our protest. The nurse would have
been quietly flogged and stuffed in some jail.
Within a couple of weeks, the press would forget.
— Still, no real damage done.
— There is to the Foreign Office.
We've almost got agreement to set up
a signals listening post in Kumran.
We said we wouldn't make a fuss if they signed.
We've lost our best bargaining counter.
You could find another nurse
and plant some Scotch on her!
— I don't think we could do that.
— No. No, it wouldn't be right.
No, it's too dangerous.
Still, at least it's got
that nurse's ghastly mother off my back.
She's been writing and phoning and telling
the press that we haven't been doing anything.
— Extraordinary.
— And the press have taken her part.
— Going on about being more patriotic!
— Extraordinary.
They've said a lot of unpleasant things,
but we've never been accused of patriotism!
Sometimes I can't believe the newspapers'
abject ignorance of diplomatic realities.
But we may have a problem with the PM now.
Because we advised him against this?
Because the Foreign Secretary said
it was impossible to get her released!
And we were right! If we'd left it to the
Foreign Office, it would have been impossible.
You see what will happen now? The press will
say the Church succeeds where the F.O. fails.
They'll dig out all the old cuttings
about ambassadors' Rolls Royces,
�4 million embassies, school fees at Eton paid
for by the taxpayer and what does Britain get?
— Don't. I know what we'll do.
— What?
We'll tell the press that it was the Prime
Minister's initiative to send the Dean.
Good idea. The PM will enjoy taking the credit.
There's no danger the PM will deny it
because it isn't true?
None at all.
And then for the Sundays we'll leak the idea
that the Foreign Office suggested it to him
when the diplomatic channels were blocked.
Perfect. Nobody gets the blame
and everybody gets the credit.
— Except the person who really thought it up.
— I don't mind.
— Em...
— [TELEPHONE RINGS]
I don't mind that he doesn't get the credit.
Excuse me.
Hello? Oh, put him on.
Oh, hello, Master.
Have you seen the television news? Splendid!
— Yes, absolutely splendid.
— This could help our friend, eh?
— Certainly could.
— How long until a bishopric falls vacant?
Well, there's no time like the present.
I think the battle of Bury St Edmunds
is not over yet. There have been developments.
— [TELEPHONE RINGS]
— Excuse me.
Hello? Yes, ask him to come in. Thank you.
I think we can still get the Dean
up to the starting gate.
As a late entry. Just leave it to me.
All right. Bye, Master. Bye-bye.
Ah, come in, Peter.
I understand there's a meeting of the Crown
Appointments Commission in the morning?
Yes, they are aware
that a further candidate is required
since the PM saw fit to break with tradition.
By insisting on a bishop who is a believer?
There is one possible candidate, Steven
Soames, but we've saved him up for years.
— We'd rather offer him Truro.
— Why?
Well, Truro is... How shall I put it? Very remote.
It is to the Church what the Vehicle Licensing
Centre in Swansea is to the Civil Service.
Yes.
— Soames has been waiting for years.
— Long time, no see.
Oh, very droll, Humphrey.
Yes, he is a bit of a nuisance.
He keeps on about our duty to God.
We rather wanted him out of the way.
''Long time, no see''!
Yes, but if the PM wants a religious bishop,
he's the only candidate.
He sounds fine, but there is one little snag.
— The PM wants you to put up two more names.
— Two?
You must give the PM the feeling of a choice.
You need a second candidate
who is plausible, but unacceptable.
— I can't think who and the meeting's so soon.
— Why not the Dean of Baillie College?
— I agree he is impossible, but not plausible.
— Why not?
He's a crank! He's unbelievably vain
and hopelessly incompetent.
But the PM appoints people who are vain
and incompetent - look at the Cabinet.
And the Dean's just had good publicity.
Isn't there a danger he'll get in?
Not the slightest. The PM has stated
that he wants a devout Christian.
The Dean only believes in Islam,
steam engines and the MCC.
In fact, some smart aleck once asked him
on TV if he knew what the Bible was.
— And did he?
— He said it's a Christian version of the Koran.
''Jim's Dean saves Fiona from lash''!
— What about that?
— Excellent.
— ''Prime Minister's envoy secures release''.
— Excellent, Prime Minister.
— ''Angel of mercy was sent by PM''!
— Excellent!
I was given full credit on the news.
I suppose it was me.
It must have been.
After all, I stopped the Foreign Office
from stopping him, which is the same thing.
— Too late to change it now.
— I wonder why they gave me the credit, though.
Well, they couldn't take it themselves.
This looks like a government achievement.
There's even a leader.
''It does the PM great credit that he has not
been bound by the shackles of diplomacy.
''The Kumran aff...'' This IS important.
Yes, but the Palace is waiting for your
recommendation for Bury St Edmunds.
The two names were in your box.
I thought Steven Soames sounded right.
The Dean of Baillie did a very good job,
but I gather he's rather eccentric.
I'm sure that Soames is the choice
the Commissioners are hoping you make.
Oh? Why? What's wrong with him?
Well, I have heard say that he's an extremist.
— You mean he believes in God?
— He's very religious.
That's all right for a bishop, isn't it?
He tends to raise issues
that governments would prefer not to be raised.
He's a trenchant critic of abortion,
contraception, sex education, pornography,
Sunday trading, easy divorce
and bad language on TV.
— Oh.
— He'd be likely to challenge government policy.
But these are subjects on which the government
is hoping to have no policy.
Our policy is not to have a policy.
Well, quite. He's against your no-policy policy.
He will demand that you ban abortion,
Sunday trading...
Thank you. I get the picture.
— He's also against oppression in Africa.
— So are we.
But he's against it
from black AND white governments.
Oh. You mean he's a racist?
But you can choose him if you like.
I can't turn down another two names.
Well, there is always the Dean of Baillie.
He's not really up to it, is he? I gather he's
lazy, vain and uninterested in Christianity.
But he's not AGAINST it!
I think he would make
a thoroughly suitable British bishop.
Cricket, steam engines
and a complete ignorance of theology.
He's never had an ordinary church job.
He's been at Oxford.
— But he did well in Kumran.
— Yes.
I gather he's thinking of telling the press
that the Kumran visit wasn't your idea.
— What?!
— He's thinking of telling the press...
Yes, yes, I heard what you said.
He can't say that!
I gather he has a letter from the Bishop
of Banbury dated before your involvement.
But that would be frightfully embarrassing!
Taking credit for something I didn't do.
Yes, I can see the headlines now.
''PM takes credit for Dean's mercy mission''.
''Jim didn't fix it!'' Sorry.
— He must be stopped! How can we stop him?
— He feels he hasn't had enough recognition...
That the Church hasn't had enough recognition
for its role in Kumran.
Well, give him some.
Get him round for drinks. Photo opportunity.
— That might be a little improper.
— Why?
If you're considering two candidates,
you can hardly invite just one round for a drink.
— I see.
— Unless, of course...
If you'd already given him the job,
then it would be perfectly proper.
Oh.
Actually, Humphrey,
I think he's rather a good choice for bishop.
— He's an enterprising chap.
— Enterprising.
— Eccentricity can be a virtue.
— If you call it individualism.
I have an independent mind,
you are an eccentric, he is round the twist.
Sorry.
Thank you, Bernard. Furthermore, we need
people like him in the House of Lords.
— People who really understand the Arab world.
— And steam engines.
Yes, on mature consideration,
I think the Dean of Baillie is my choice.
Convey that to the Palace, Bernard.
— Yes, Prime Minister.
— Now! Fast. Announce it by midday.
Get him round for a drinkie at six. Move!
— A wise decision, if I may say so.
— You may, Humphrey.
How come you know so much about the Dean
of Baillie? Weren't you at Baillie yourself?
— I was, yes.
— Jobs for the boys, is it?
On the contrary! I hardly know him.
In fact, I happen to know that he dislikes me.
You can ask him yourself this evening.
I don't like him very much, either.
— Honestly?
— On my word of honour.
— You have nothing to gain?
— How could I have?
In that case, well done.
Helpful, impartial advice.
The best traditions of the Civil Service.
Yes, Prime Minister.
Hello, darling!
Ah, the news! Got to me yet?
— No. What have you done now?
— A sensational Question Time.
— I really made mincemeat of them.
— They haven't mentioned it yet.
— Typical BBC.
— It's not BBC.
— Typical ITV.
— It's Channel 4.
Well, what can you expect? Turn it up, then.
There's growing anxiety for the fate of Benji,
an 0ld English sheepdog,
who last night got under the wire
and into the artillery range on Salisbury Plain.
Benji belongs to 8-year-old Linda Fletcher.
Linda lost both her parents in a car crash.
Both she and Benji survived.
Unfortunately, the area is full of unexploded
shells and is highly dangerous
except for one fixed road. Benji is a long way
from the road and seems to be lost.
The Army expressed their regrets,
but say that unless he comes to the road
there's nothing they can do. If nothing happens
soon, he will either starve or be blown up.
Linda is preparing to spend
another night's vigil on Salisbury Plain,
hoping that Benji will come back.
And that's the news this evening.
— Are you sure you watched all of the news?
— Yes.
— Was it on, the bit about me?
— No.
— You said you watched it all.
— But one mentally tunes out the boring bits.
Not you, dear. You're not boring. Not to me,
even if you are to the rest of the country.
The future defence of Britain was being
fought out in the great forum of the nation
and what do they give the viewers?
A rerun of ''Lassie Come Home''!
I think the Army ought to rescue that dog.
Kids lose dogs every day.
Should the Army rescue every one of them?
— You don't understand ordinary people.
— I am an ordinary person.
— Oh, surely not (!)
— You want me to waste taxpayers' money
on buying cheap popularity?
Sometimes you have to do things
that aren't economic in a civilised society.
Write a paper on that and submit it
to the Treasury. We don't get many laughs!
— The Director General of MI5, Prime Minister.
— Ah, hello, Geoffrey. Come along in.
Thank you, Prime Minister.
Eh, I wonder if...
Oh, that's all right.
I always have Bernard present.
— Not this time, Prime Minister.
— Ah. I don't always have Bernard present.
Do sit down.
I don't have any papers for this meeting.
— No, it's too serious.
— Why?
— We've just received some information.
— Isn't that what you're supposed to do?
— Do you know John Halsted?
— Your predecessor. Died last month.
He left his personal papers to us.
We've started to go through them.
He was passing government secrets to Moscow
in the '50s and '60s.
— The head of MI5?! A Russian agent?
— So it seems.
— Why did he leave his papers to you?
— His will said it was a final act of conscience.
I think it's just posthumous gloating.
Showing us he could get away with it.
— How much did he tell them?
— That hardly matters.
With Burgess, McLean, Philby, Blake
and Fuchs and the Krogers,
one more didn't make much more difference.
— The point is he was one of us.
— One of us?
Joined MI5 straight from Cambridge,
Civil Service all his life.
If this ever gets out, all of us recruited
in his time will be suspects for ever.
Yes. ..You're not a spy, are you?
Only joking. You're not, are you? No...
This is not all. We held an internal security
investigation into Sir John in the '70s.
— There was a lot of speculation. Remember?
— Vaguely.
All totally irresponsible and ill-informed.
— When the press suggested he was a spy?
— Yes.
— Well, he was.
— But they didn't know that!
They were being totally ignorant.
They just happened to be accurate.
Anyway, the inquiry cleared him completely,
but they missed some rather obvious
questions and checks.
So obvious that...well... One wonders.
Yes.
What does one wonder?
One wonders about the chaps who cleared him.
I see. Whether they were stupid, you mean?
No, Prime Minister. Whether they were also...
Spies?! My God!
— Who headed that inquiry?
— Old Lord MacIver, but he was ill a lot.
Well, ga-ga, actually. So, effectively,
it was the secretary who conducted it.
— Who was the secretary?
— Humphrey Appleby.
— Humphrey?!
— Yes, Prime Minister.
— You think he may have been a spy, too?
— It's a remote possibility, but very unlikely.
— He's one of us.
— So was John Halsted.
Well, yes, but there's no other evidence
against Humphrey.
Might he have been covering up for one of us...
one of you?
I suppose so, but I have no doubts at all
about his loyalty.
— It's much more likely to be just...
— Hideous incompetence.
We haven't been through the rest of his papers.
You could hold an inquiry into Sir Humphrey.
— Could I?
— Well, I wouldn't recommend it at this stage.
We don't want more irresponsible speculation.
— Even if it's accurate.
— Especially if it's accurate.
There's nothing worse than accurate,
irresponsible, ill-informed press speculation.
You could send Humphrey off on gardening leave
while we examine the Halsted papers.
— Gardening leave?
— And you could confront him.
— The substantive evidence is all here.
— Shouldn't we just forget about it?
Well, obviously, it's your decision,
but if you did nothing and it emerged later
that Sir Humphrey...that he was...
..one of them, well, it might not look too good.
Not to mention that as Cabinet Secretary
he co-ordinates our security services.
— There are no secrets from him.
— You're right.
But I find it hard enough to believe
that one of us was one of them.
But if two of us were one of them...
Two of them.
..all of us could be, um...
All of them.
Thank you, Geoffrey. I've heard enough.
Awful! Another three points down in the polls.
— Not the government. Only your personal rating.
— What have I done wrong?
— Low popularity usually means doing it right.
— It's not my failure to get defence cuts?
To be honest, I don't think defence cuts are the
principal topic of conversation in supermarkets.
— What is?
— To judge from the popular press,
it's the lost dog on Salisbury Plain.
Perhaps the government needs a lost dog policy.
— Anything else, Prime Minister?
— Yes, there is something else.
— A security matter. Bernard, would you mind?
— I'm sorry?
— What are you doing?
— Well, I thought...
— There wasn't anyone...
— I was just hoping you'd leave us alone.
Oh!
Oh. Yes.
— Prime Minister.
— Yes, Humphrey.
There's something I want to talk to you about.
Something...very secret.
Would it be easier if I wasn't here?
A few years ago, there was a security inquiry.
Does the name Sir John Halsted ring a bell?
Yes, of course. In fact,
I had to conduct the inquiry myself, virtually.
— And you found nothing incriminating?
— Of course not.
John Halsted was one of us.
We'd been friends for years.
The whole story was got up by the press
and the whole object of internal security
inquiries is to find no evidence.
Even if the security of the realm is at risk?
If you really believe that,
you call in the Special Branch.
Government security inquiries are only used
for killing press stories.
They enable the Prime Minister
to stand up in the House and say,
''There is no evidence for these charges.''
— What if you found something suspicious?
— Practically all of government is suspicious.
The fact that you asked Bernard to leave us
alone might be construed as suspicious.
— Indeed.
— But the whole story was clearly a nonsense.
Typical Fleet Street sensationalism.
— So he wasn't passing secrets to Moscow?
— Impossible. Out of the question.
— You'd stake your reputation on it?
— Without hesitation.
I see. Well, I'm afraid I have to tell you
that for a substantial part of his career
he was a Russian spy.
I don't believe it. Who says so?
He does. He left his papers to the government,
including a detailed confession. MI5 agrees.
It checks out all along the line.
But...
Good Lord, he... I mean, he was...
— One of us?
— Exactly! This leaves a lot of questions.
Yes, and I'm asking you -
why didn't you ask him a lot of questions?
Why did the inquiry exonerate him so quickly?
I've already told you!
Anyway, we were very busy. Besides...
Good Lord! You don't think...?
I mean, surely nobody suspects...?
— What else was I expected to do?
— You could have held a proper inquiry.
— He had a surprisingly long stay in Yugoslavia.
— Yes?
Shortly afterwards, several MI5 agents
were rounded up and never seen again.
— Yes...
— He spent a lot of time with one interpreter.
And she turned out to be a Russian agent.
We knew that.
Most Yugoslav interpreters are Russian agents.
Those who aren't with the CIA, that is.
— You never followed it up.
— I had better things to do.
Three months later, she moved to England
and settled in Cambridge,
150 yards from Sir John Halsted's house.
They were neighbours for the next 11 years.
Crikey!
You can't check up on everything!
You never know what you might find!
— If you have such a suspicious mind...
— Hold security inquiries.
Ye...no!
John gave me his word. Halsted.
The word of a gentleman.
Anyway, I have a problem. You.
Me? You don't think...?
You couldn't think...
I don't speak a word of Russian!
It was either incompetence or collusion.
I give you my word it wasn't collusion!
— The word of a gentleman?
— Exactly! An Oxford gentleman.
— How's the garden?
— Oh, well, it...
— I beseech you, not gardening leave.
— Why not?
— I have my reputation to think of!
— You staked that on Halsted's innocence.
— I think I'll talk to your predecessor.
— Arnold? Why?
I've no experience of this sort of thing.
I need Arnold's advice on setting up
a security inquiry on a Cabinet Secretary.
Anyway, thank you, Humphrey.
That will be all.
Yes...
For the time being.
Don't discuss this with Arnold.
Of course not, Prime Minister!
I wouldn't dream of it.
So what do you think I should do, Arnold?
Difficult. Depends a bit
on whether you actually were spying or not.
— Arnold!
— One must keep an open mind.
But I couldn't have been. I wasn't at Cambridge.
I'm not one of them. I'm a married man.
One of us.
I've been in the Civil Service all my life.
— So had John Halsted.
— But he was different.
— Why?
— Well, John used to believe in things. Causes.
I've never believed in anything in my life!
He had ideas. Original ideas.
You know I've never done anything like that.
— Even if you were, I agree it mustn't get out.
— Do you, Arnold?
Of course.
Giving information to Moscow is serious.
— Giving information to anyone is serious.
— The Cabinet.
A scandal like this could gravely weaken
the authority of the service. You mustn't confess.
But I haven't done anything to confess to!
Be that as it may,
there is still the other possibility.
Let us assume, for the sake of argument,
that you are innocent.
— Oh, thank you, Arnold.
— Just assuming, without prejudice.
Then the question of incompetence arises.
But I wasn't incompetent.
You made it clear we were expected
to find no evidence against him.
— I have no recollections of that.
— Oh! You know perfectly well.
— You have written evidence of this?
— Of course not.
So we return to the question
of your incompetence.
You and I may know that you did the job
you were required to do,
but it's hard to explain that to politicians.
— Do they have to know?
— Not if we can help it. The PM is the danger.
— He may want to tell people.
— He mustn't!
— Can you stop him?
— I don't know.
You have to stop him. Suppose he told
the Cabinet? And they decided to suspend you?
Remove you to the chairmanship
of the War Graves Commission?
— They couldn't!
— They could, but they mustn't.
— But not because of you. You are expendable.
— I'm not!
Once they accept the principle that senior civil
servants can be removed for incompetence,
that would be thin end of the wedge. We could
lose dozens of our chaps. Hundreds, perhaps!
Thousands. Arnold, what am I going to do?
I suggest you make yourself so valuable
to the Prime Minister over the next few days
that he cannot afford to let you go.
— How?
— What is he really dead set on at the moment?
— Popularity.
— That is what all politicians are dead set on.
But he's dropping at the moment in the polls.
Then you must lift him up again.
Give him a popular role
in the biggest current news story.
Well, the biggest current news story
is a lost dog on Salisbury Plain.
— Well?
— Oh, Arnold.
Are you suggesting that I have the Prime
Minister crawling all over Salisbury Plain
with a mine detector in one hand
and a packet of Winalot in the other?
It would probably do Britain less harm
than anything else he'd be likely to be doing.
— The Permanent Secretary for Defence.
— Norman, good of you to come.
How did my Secretary of State do in Cabinet?
Well, so-so. I think Cabinet is starting
to resent his refusal to make defence cuts.
— But he didn't back down?
— No.
— Excellent. What can I do for you?
— Well, it's rather a sensitive one.
— Cruise missiles?
— No.
— Star Wars?
— No.
— What, then?
— Em...
It's this dog on Salisbury Plain.
Oh, that! The PM getting his knickers
in a twist? Don't worry. It's all under control.
— Oh, really?
— It will starve to death by the weekend.
They'll recover the body
and bury it just outside the gates.
Guards resting at arms reversed.
The C.O. comforting the weeping little girl.
Telly will lap it up, lovely pictures in the Sundays.
— How about rescuing it?
— Don't be silly, Humphrey. It's dangerous.
— But to do it safely.
— Safely?
A squadron of Royal Engineers with mine
detectors, the Veterinary Corps with stun darts,
a helicopter with winching equipment
and a bill up in the hundreds of thousands
for a dog you could replace for a fiver
at the local pet shop!
But it could be done?
— If you've got the money.
— Could you do it?
You must be mad! Here we are
under the greatest pressure to cut spending
and you suggest that we waste hundreds
of thousands in front of the press on a dog!
It would be departmental suicide.
Yes, but if the Prime Minister were
to authorise it, if it was his initiative,
wouldn't it make it harder for him
to insist on defence cuts after that?
Humphrey, you excel yourself.
Especially if he didn't find out the true size
of the cost until after the rescue.
What do you want me to do?
Put the rescue operation on standby
in strict confidence.
And promise me the PM will get all the credit.
No nonsense about your Secretary of State
trying to muscle in on all the publicity.
— You've been briefed by MI5?
— Indeed, Prime Minister. Unfortunate.
— Disastrous.
— Not disastrous. It will never come out.
— Things are only disastrous if people find out?
— Of course.
Even if the Cabinet Secretary is a spy?
— I'm happy to say that is not the case.
— Why so sure?
MI5 have just come across this
in the Halsted papers, from his private diary.
''Another session with that prize goof Appleby.
''Fooled him completely.
He never asked any difficult questions,
''didn't seem to have read the MI5 report.
''So much wool in his head
it's child's play to pull it over his eyes.''
— That certainly...
— Exonerates Sir Humphrey.
Arnold...I can't tell you
how happy this makes me.
— Shall I...?
— No, no. I'll keep this.
I take it there's nothing for me to investigate?
— Not on security grounds.
— Good. I'll take up no more of your time.
Hold on. There's still the incompetence.
Well, of course, we all make mistakes.
— Not on that scale. Think I should sack him?
— I hardly think so.
— No? Should civil servants never be sacked?
— If they deserve it, of course.
In principle, but not in practice.
— Why not?
— There would have to be an inquiry.
All inquiries into the incompetence of civil
servants lead back to mistakes by ministers.
— On second thoughts, leave it with me.
— Thank you, Prime Minister.
— [KNOCKING]
— Sir Humphrey.

🎬 [ENTHUSIASTICALLY]

Show him in, Bernard. Show him in!
— Prime Minister.
— Ah!
Goofy. Er, Humphrey.
I'm happy to tell you
you've been cleared of spying.
— How?
— Something Sir John Halsted wrote.
— Oh, that's very gratifying.
— Isn't it?
— May one see the document?
— One certainly may.
Better still, one can have it read to one.
''May 28th. Another session with that prize goof
Appleby. Fooled him completely...''
— Yes, thank you.
— No, it goes on. It clears you even more.
— ''He never asked any difficult questions...''
— Yes, that's quite clear.
''So much wool in his head, it's child's play
to pull it over his eyes.'' Isn't that wonderful?
You must be a very happy man.
Halsted was a hopeless judge of character.
— You mean we can't believe this?
— Oh, no, no, no.
No, no, it's absolutely true.
True, that is, in the sense of...
You see, he wasn't bright enough
to understand subtle questioning techniques.
The non-confrontational approach.
— Lulled him into a TRUE sense of security?
— No, no, no.
Anyway, I take it it's all over now?
The matter of collusion, yes. But would you
condone incompetence of this sort?
It was a long time ago.
I had many other onerous duties.
— You have many now.
— Yes. And, in fact...
..I have been giving some thought to how
you might increase your popularity rating.
— Yes?
— Strong government needs a popular PM.
— You should do something popular.
— But what?
I was about to suggest
that you might intervene personally
to save that poor little doggie on Salisbury Plain.
— Are you serious?
— Of course.
It certainly would be very popular.
— Would it be very expensive?
— Surely not.
Could we cost it?
Well, I gather that time
is running out for little Benji.
We have to make a decision this morning.
There are times when you have to act
from the heart, even as Prime Minister.
— You're right, Humphrey!
— May I?
Please do. It's not a question
of buying cheap popularity.
By no means.
— Will it take long?
— I've got the Army on three-hour standby.
— Splendid.
— Is that you, Norman? Walkies.
And finally, Benji, the 0ld English sheepdog
lost on the artillery range on Salisbury Plain
has been rescued. Martin Muncaster reports.
The operation began here on B Range.
Four detachments of the Royal Engineers with
mine detectors set off from different points
to close in on where Benji was last sighted.
It took them over an hour to locate him.
Then the Royal Veterinary Corps
fired a stun dart at Benji.
Unfortunately, the area is too dangerous
to enter without detonating shells,
so a Royal Navy helicopter was flown in
and they lowered a man to pick up Benji
without crossing the dangerous ground
and fly him to safety. Later, he was reunited
with his young owner, Linda Fletcher,
who said she'd almost given up hope
of ever seeing Benji again.
It's understood that direct intervention
from the Prime Minister made this possible.
— Darling, you got them to rescue that dog!
— Yes.
— You said it would be a waste of money.
— I know, but government is caring.
— Caring about votes?
— That's not very kind, Annie.
I thought about that little girl and what Benji
must mean to her. Individuals do count,
even in a world of budgets and balance sheets.
Some people might criticise me,
but sometimes doing the right thing
means risking unpopularity.
Well, I won't criticise you, darling.
I think you're wonderful.
See this, Humphrey?
''Britain learned today that a real human heart
beats inside Number 10 Downing Street.''
— Actually, 74 human hearts beat inside here.
— Thank you, Bernard.
See? I was right. I have an instinct
for what people want.
— If I may say so, Prime Minister...
— Of course! It was your idea, wasn't it?
Well done. What can I do for you?
— The Halsted inquiry?
— Say no more about it. Completely forgotten.
Oh, thank you. Now may we discuss
the Cabinet agenda? One or two points.
— Item 3...
— Linda says, ''My vote goes to Mr Hacker!''
— I beg your pardon?
— I'm sorry, Humphrey. Yes?
''BBC and ITV report a flood of phone calls,
''all approving the PM's decision to rescue Benji.''
May I suggest that we postpone Item 3?
''The Leader of the Opposition was not available
for comment.'' I bet he wasn't!
Support me or let pet dogs starve to death!
I really had him there, didn't I?
— Sorry, Humphrey.
— Item 3.
Yes, what's Item 3?
Defence cuts? What about them?
We should refer them to Cabinet Committee.
No, I want a decision on Thursday,
not a 60-page submission next Easter.
Ah, because I've just had the provisional costings
for the dog rescue operation.
�310,000?!
— That's impossible!
— Those are MoD figures on a true-cost basis.
— This is absurd. We must do something.
— Put the dog back?
— That's ridiculous. I'm not postponing Item 3.
— Well, it's your decision, Prime Minister.
And a very courageous one, if I may say so.
Courageous? Why?
Well, if the defence cuts are made, the cost
of rescuing a dog is bound to be leaked.
— Oh, no.
— Unless you have faith in MoD confidentiality.
Don't be absurd! They leak like sieves.
I can see it now. ''Prime Minister saves dog
at expense of Britain's air defences.''
— It would be quite a story.
— A shaggy dog story.
But it would only come out if...
— I'm not going to be blackmailed.
— Of course not.
On the other hand, one can cut defence too far.
— Absolutely.
— Defence of the realm. First duty of government.
— First duty.
— There are emergencies - Korea, the Falklands.
— Benji.
— Benji! Yes.
I think I may have been a little hasty.
Item 3 probably needs a bit more thought.
— I'm sure that's wise.
— No hurry. Refer defence cuts to committee.
Yes, Prime Minister.