The Complete Yes Prime Minister

POWER TO THE PEOPLE

October 29th

This morning I had a TV appearance. I hadnt looked forward to it very much. As usual they wanted to interview me about bad news, thats all theyre ever interested in. The particular disaster on the agenda today was the ongoing permanent catastrophe of local government, about which I can do practically nothing!

Almost everybody in Whitehall and in Parliament, I said to Bernard, of whatever party, agrees that there are a few councils which are run by a bunch of corrupt morons who are too clever by half.

Bernard didnt disagree. He merely commented that the most that a moron can be is less clever by half. He hates to express an opinion on anything thats remotely controversial. But I demanded that he give me his opinion.

Theyre democratically elected, he remarked cautiously.

That depends on how you define democracy, I pointed out. Only about twenty-five per cent of the electorate vote in local elections. And all they do is treat it as a popularity poll on the political leaders in Westminster.

Nonetheless, they are still representatives. Hes persistent as well as wrong-headed.

But who do they represent? I challenged him. Nobody knows who their councillor is. And the councillors know that nobody knows who they are. Or what they do. So they spend four totally unaccountable years on a publicly subsidised ego trip, handing out ratepayers hard-earned income to subsidise lesbian awareness courses and Borough Pet Watch schemes to combat cat theft! They ruin the schools, they let the inner cities fall to bits, they demoralise the police and undermine law and order, and then they blame us.

They blame you, said Bernard punctiliously.

Thats right! I agreed. Me!

Will you say all that?

I just said it! I snapped. Dont you bloody listen?

Bernard explained that hed meant would I say it all on television. What does he think? Of course I wouldnt! It would make me look intolerant. [It is interesting that Hacker believed that he was not intolerant. Some more ideological politicians might have been proud to be intolerant on this score, and might have felt it would be popular as well. Hacker, however, wanted to be liked, and his greatest problem with these local authorities was that they made him less popular Ed.] People assume that Im responsible because Im Prime Minister. And now the leader of the Houndsworth Council, that bloody Agnes Moorhouse woman, is threatening to withhold funds from the police, and ban them from council property. If she gets away with it, itll mean the Government has virtually handed over control of the country to the local councils.

Bernard had looked up the relevant statute. She cant do that, he said. Section 5 of the Police Act, 1964, says that Councils have to provide an adequate and efficient police force.

Id seen the latest Guardian interview with Ms Moorhouse, and I allowed myself to be the devils advocate for a moment. She says that until the police are fifty per cent black they will not be either adequate or efficient.

She cant prove that, can she? Bernard asked.

Who knows? Her current all-white police force is actually the least efficient and most inadequate in the country. Everyone round here is terrified that if we took her to court shed prove her case.

[Unfortunately the transcript of Hackers radio interview that day has not survived, and for that reason we believe that it was not significant. However, the following morning Hacker called a special meeting with Sir Humphrey Appleby to discuss the London Borough of Houndsworth Ed.]

October 30th

Humphrey, I began, its clear to me that we have to do something about Agnes Moorhouse. Her borough is almost a no-go area.

He nodded sagely. Indeed, Prime Minister.

Well what? I asked.

He gazed hopefully up at the moulded plaster ceiling, and thoughtfully scratched the back of his neck. How about a strongly worded letter?

Not much of a suggestion, in my view. She would simply send us an even more strongly worded letter. Copied to all the newspapers.

Bernard wondered if he might draw her attention to the law, but I dont think that would be much help either. Shes a lawyer, getting round the law is what she gets paid for.

In truth, Humphrey and Bernard were rather at a loss. They simply dont understand people who dont play by the rules. Its more or less incomprehensible to them that a strongly worded letter might fail to do the trick. It certainly would bring them into line.

Humphrey doodled on his notepad, quietly thinking. Finally he suggested, Why not just ignore her?

I stared at him. And have everyone say Ive handed over control of the country to the militant loonies? No, Humphrey, someone must have a word with her. And point out the security implications.

I waited, but the penny didnt drop. One of the law officers? he asked puzzled.

No, I said. It cant be a political confrontation. It must be an official. I waited again. Still nothing. With security responsibilities, I hinted.

It dropped at last. No! No, Prime Minister, no! He was desperate not to do it, and I couldnt really blame him. Surely its up to Scotland Yard? The Home Office. MI5. The Special Branch. Lord Chancellor. Department of the Environment

White Fish Authority?

White Fish Authority! he repeated in deadly earnest, then realised I was being facetious. The point is, not me! Its not fair.

The point is, Humphrey, I explained, you are the man who co-ordinates the security forces.

Yes, but

Or should we give that responsibility to someone else?

My threat was unmistakable. He stopped dead in mid-sentence.

I smiled sympathetically. So thats agreed. A quiet word. Reach a gentlemans agreement.

Humphrey scowled. But shes not a gentleman. Shes not even a lady!

Never mind, I consoled him. I want you to handle her.

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Handle her? Clearly he regarded that as a fate worse than death. I couldnt disagree.

[Sir Humphrey refers to his gruelling and thought-provoking meeting with Agnes Moorhouse in his private diary Ed.]

Wednesday 31 October

I met the leader of the Houndsworth Council today, at the Prime Ministers request.

To my intense surprise Agnes Moorhouse was a quiet, pleasant, well-spoken middle-class lady, apparently well educated and properly brought up. This makes her attitude towards us even more puzzling.

She is extremely hostile, though I must say she has excellent manners. She accepted a cup of tea on her arrival, of course, but she was disdainful of my friendly query as to whether she was Miss or Mrs Moorhouse. I had merely been concerned to address her correctly. But in reply she asked me in a surly fashion if her marital status was any concern of mine.

Of course its not. Nor have I the faintest interest in it. Meanwhile, she made a clear choice in favour of Orange Pekoe over Typhoo Tea-bags, which demonstrated that she was not wholly uneducated in, or unappreciative of, the better things in life.

I enquired with caution if she wished to be called Ms Moorhouse (which is pronounced Mis and seemed wholly appropriate for her). She told me I could call her Agnes. Which, by the way, I had no particular wish to do so. She asked me what she should call me, and I indicated that Sir Humphrey would be quite acceptable.

However, as I was feeling far from first name terms in this relationship, and being therefore somewhat unwilling to call her Agnes, I opened the conversation by addressing her as dear lady. This mode of address is habitual, and was not intended to carry any resonances of irony. Nor was it intended to be patronising. However, the lovely Agnes told me to leave it out and that she didnt want any sexist crap.

I was now quite confirmed in my first impression of her, namely that this was not awfully likely to be a meeting of minds. But realising that if any progress were to be made we had to get past this interminable problem of how to address each other, I came swiftly to the point. I said that we needed to understand each other and I expressed the hope that we were basically in agreement in that, although she doubtless had her own views as to how Britain should be run, we both agreed that society needs a fundamental base of order and authority.

She claimed that was half true.

Half true? I asked.

You agree, but I dont, she said. Very droll. An amusing debating point but hardly a serious answer.

In short, she claims that our political system as presently constituted abuses its authority in order to preserve litist privileges. And that, in so doing, great suffering is caused to the homeless, the unemployed and the aged.

She seemed to feel I was out of touch with ordinary people. I cant imagine where she got such a strange idea. Patiently I explained that I was fully informed about the disadvantaged members of our society, that Id read all the published papers, seen all the statistics, studied all the official reports. Whereupon she fired a string of irrelevant questions at me: What does half a pound of margarine cost? What time do Social Security offices open? How long can you run a one-bar fire for 50 pence in the meter? and so forth.

Of course I didnt have the foggiest idea of the answers, nor do I see the relevance of the questions. But she seemed to imply that if I had known the answers my attitude to authority would be different.

This is a preposterous notion. We all agree that it would be marvellous if there were no poverty, and we all sympathise with those who are less well off than ourselves. But we simply do not have the resources to achieve an equally high standard of living for everyone. Indeed, the whole notion of equality in an economic sense is a mirage. There will always be somebody who is better off than oneself.

To my astonishment she rose from her chair and started wandering round my office appraising the value of everything she saw, as if she were on a Sunday afternoon outing to Portobello Road. She asked me if my desk was my own. And the portraits. And the porcelain. She knew full well that they were government property, and she estimated that the contents of my office would fetch about eighty grand, which I believe is the vernacular for 80,000. Enough to keep twenty one-parent families for a year, she said.

I think that eighty grand is a gross overestimate, but even if shes right shes economically illiterate. I was about to explain to her how depriving the rich does not create any more wealth for the poor in the long term -- indeed, the contrary is the case -- when she asked me about my salary. I refused to tell her my income but she had looked it up. Is there no privacy any more, no respect? Is nothing sacred?

She had the audacity to propose that I drop my income to 100 per week, leaving 175,000 a year left over for the needy. Once again I tried to explain that my salary is merely part of a complex economic structure. But her mind is closed. She said that when she is in power -- God forbid -- she will simplify the structure.

All of this I bore in silence. It was my duty. I bit the bullet. But then the damnable woman went too far! She suggested that I was making a profit out of serving my country.

She had done a little research on me, or certainly on my salary. But I too had not been idle in advance of our meeting, and I now asked her a series of questions: for instance, how her policy of banning sexist calendars in council helped poverty.

Her answer was most instructive: sexism, she claimed, is colonialism against women. It would have been more correct to describe such calendars as obscene -- but the word obscene is now misapplied to describe war, financial fraud or other forms of conduct which may be wrong but are not obscene.

Clearly Agnes thinks colonialism is, by definition, wicked. And by applying the word to sexist calendars the case is proven, without having to be argued further. So I asked her if colonialism against women is reason for Houndsworths encouragement and approval of the adoption of children by lesbian working single mothers.

Yes, she said. I am against prejudice in all forms. I do not think that children should be brought up in an atmosphere of irrational prejudice in favour of heterosexuality. Several more questions begged there, I noted.

Then I asked whether her policy of allowing only free-range eggs to be sold in her borough helped in the fight against heterosexual prejudice, the fight for womens rights, or the fight against poverty.

Her answer: Animals have rights too. Colonialism against chickens, I suppose. But when I laughed she became very emotional. A battery chickens life isnt worth living. Would you want to spend your life unable to breathe fresh air, unable to move, unable to stretch, unable to think, packed in with six hundred other desperate brainless, squawking, smelly creatures?

Of course I wouldnt. Thats why I never stood for Parliament. But the point I was trying to get across to her was that battery hens make eggs more plentiful, and therefore cheaper, and therefore they provide food in her borough for the needy, about whom she professes to care so much.

She refused to concede the point. The price of the suffering caused to the chickens is too high. Funnily enough, I can see her point a little. I prefer to buy free-range eggs -- but then, I can afford them. In fact, her concern for the animal kingdom is the reason for her starting a neighbourhood Pet Watch scheme to combat the theft of cats. I indicated that the sum of money might be better spent on the needy -- but doubtless she would argue its being spent on needy cats.

By now I was making Agnes angry. She asked me what I have against our dumb friends. My reply -- that I have nothing against them, for I have a great many friends in local government -- did not amuse her at all.

We bickered for quite a while. Finally, having totally failed to establish any rapport between us, we stopped exchanging slogans and turned to the matter on the agenda: her wish to withhold funds from the police, ban them from council property, sack the Chief Constable, and allow several no-go areas.

I enquired sardonically if she did not even believe in colonialism against criminals, but yet again my little joke fell on stony ground. Agnes believes that people only become criminals because of the unfairness of society. However, this good-natured theory takes no account of heredity, or of the numerous privileged and wealthy criminals whom society has treated extremely well.

She also believes that the police in her borough are insensitive and racist. Im sure that many of them are the former and some are the latter. But it is still in the interests of all of us, especially those ordinary poor people on the high-crime housing estates, to have adequate law enforcement.

This she does not accept either, and this is where I lose all sympathy for her. She acknowledged that she did not mind if those people were in danger of being mugged, raped and bombed by Molotov cocktails.

I tried to explain that it could lead to the overthrow of our whole system of government, our way of life. Yours, she said with a smile, not theirs.

She was, in short, happy to abolish parliament, the courts, the monarchy -- everything! I offered her some matches to burn down my office. But she declined with a smile. I asked her why.

I might need it, she said.

[Hackers diary continues Ed.]

November 3rd

Tonight I sat in my favourite armchair in the flat upstairs, doing my boxes. I thought Id be alone all evening, but Annie got back early from Birmingham [Hackers constituency].

I told her that I had told Humphrey to have a meeting with the dreaded Agnes Moorhouse. Annie was amused: That sounds like an interesting social experiment.

Actually Humphrey said the meeting went very well, but I noticed he didnt want to talk about it too much. And Bernard tells me that he had four whiskies in the ten minutes after she left.

Annie said she had her own troubles with local government too, in our constituency. Its the Town Hall. Theyve just cancelled the Old Peoples Christmas Party.

I was shocked. Why?

Something about new staff overtime agreements. They said it was all your fault. If you gave them the money, theyd have the party.

Thats exactly what I complain about! Its so unfair. Every piece of stupidity and incompetence in every Town hall in Britain is supposedly my fault. And yet I have virtually no control over them. Im going to ask Dorothy to do a think paper on local government for me. Tomorrow!

November 6th

I had a most instructive meeting with Dorothy today. She had plenty to tell me about local government -- apparently shes been thinking about it for months, knowing that Id get around to it sooner or later.

In a nutshell, she began, there is a sort of gentlemans agreement that the officials wont tell how incompetent the politicians are so long as the politicians dont tell how idle the officials are.

Just like here at Number Ten, I thought. I asked Dorothy what, if anything, we could do about it.

Do you really want to know?

I was surprised by the question. Of course I do.

Its a Them and Us situation. The Local Authorities ought to be Us.

I was confused. Did she mean Us the people or Us the government?

In a democracy, Dorothy pointed out quite reasonably, that ought to be the same thing.

All very well in theory, but we all know that it never is. It turned out that she meant Us the people. Local Authorities ought to be running things for Us, they ought to be part of Us but theyre not, theyre running things for Them. For their convenience, for their benefit.

I knew that. Everyone knows that. But what was the answer? Fight them?

No, said Dorothy, turn Them into Us.

I was confused. I asked for an example.

Suppose you want to stop a major government project, she said. What do you do?

Thats easy, I said. Join the Civil Service.

She laughed. No, seriously, if youre an ordinary person?

I cant remember what that was like, I confessed.

She asked me to imagine that I was an ordinary person. That wasnt awfully easy either.

Imagine that you want to stop a road-widening scheme. Or a new airport being built near your house. What do you do?

I couldnt think of anything much. Write to my MP? I suggested hopefully.

She wasnt impressed. And that does the trick?

Of course not, I admitted. After all, I know Id never take much notice of that. But surely thats what ordinary people do, theyre stupid. [Hacker apparently never considered the personal implications of that remark: the cause and effect relationship of a stupid electorate and his own election Ed.]

What Dorothy was driving at was this: what ordinary people do is form a group to fight official plans they dont want. The group represents the local people. The Local Authority, on the other hand, does not represent the local people, only the local political parties!

When the local community really cares about an issue it forms a committee, Dorothy said. It makes individual members of that committee responsible for finding the views of a couple of hundred households each. They go round the streets and talk to people, on the doorsteps and in the supermarket; they drum up support and raise money. Now, how is this committee different from the local council?

Theyre decent sensible people, I said.

What else? she asked.

They know the people they represent, I said.

Thats right, said Dorothy. So they do what the people who voted for them actually want done. And the money they raise isnt like rates, because they spend it on what people actually want it spent on. Why? Because its their money. Local councils overspend because theyre spending other peoples money.

Shes right, of course, for instance, the ordinary people in my neighbourhood at home would love the old folks to have their Christmas party. But the Town Hall would rather spend the money on a new Town Hall, or a fact-finding mission to the Bahamas.

I see what you mean, I said. Abolish the councils and put everything under the control of Central Government. [Hacker had completely missed the point. That would have been Sir Humphreys solution Ed.]

But Dorothys idea was even more radical. The idea is to return power to the ordinary people and take it away from the Town Hall machine. Make local government genuinely accountable. And she produced this months edition of Political Review. In it theres an article by someone called Professor Marriott. His plan is this:

1. Create City Villages little voting districts with approximately 200 households in each district.

2. Create Village Councils each council elected by the two hundred households.

3. Give each Village Council money a thousand pounds a year, taken out of the rates or local taxes, just to spend on their own little area, a couple of streets, a city village.

4. The Chairperson of the Village Council becomes the Borough Councillor this means that there would be five or six hundred councillors to a borough. Just like Parliament.

5. Elect an Executive Council for the Borough this means that every local authority would have a parliament and a cabinet.

It sounded very appealing, though I wasnt too excited about the idea of a parliament electing a cabinet. That would be carrying participation to a ridiculous extreme and would set a very dangerous precedent. Dorothy insisted that it was the answer to local government. The result would be that every councillor would be in door-to-door touch with the people who voted for them.

Shes right. Its brilliant. Who would ever vote for Agnes Moorhouse if they had actually met her? [More people probably Ed.] And the implications are tremendous! This could be like the Great Reform Act of 1832. All of these councils are, in fact, rotten boroughs -- with half a dozen people in local parties deciding who shall go to the Town Hall for four years.

If I bring this off I shall be the Great Reformer. I see it now. Hackers Reform Bill. A place in the history books. I shall present it myself. I immediately had ideas for how to open the debate, which I tried out on Dorothy.

The strength of Britain does not lie in offices and institutions. It lies in the stout hearts and strong wills of the yeomen

She interrupted. Women have the vote too.

And yeowomen That didnt sound right. Yeopeople, yeopersons I rephrased it. The people of our island race. On the broad and wise shoulders

She interrupted me again. Shoulders cant have wisdom.

I pressed on. On their broad shoulders and wise hearts heads, in their strong hearts and wise heads lies destiny. We must trust their simple wisdom. We must give back power to the people. She applauded.

Dorothy, I said humbly. Im proud to be the man who will introduce this new system. What shall we call it?

Democracy, she said. And her blue eyes sparkled.

SIR BERNARD WOOLLEY RECALLS [in conversation with the Editors]:

Whitehall, the most secretive square mile in the world, was paradoxically a sieve. And it was not long before Sir Humphrey Appleby heard that Dorothy Wainwright had recommended Professor Marriotts ideas to the Prime Minister. He asked me in for drinks in his office after work one evening that week.

I too had read Professor Marriotts article but I must confess that, being still slightly green compared with Sir Humphrey, the wider implications of the theory had not quite sunk in. So when he raised the subject I remarked that in my opinion it was about time that we reformed local government.

The expression on his face told me at once that I should have been slightly more equivocal. So I indicated that I had merely meant that I was not wholly against reforming local government. As his expression remained the same I felt it wise to add that I could see that there might be many convincing, indeed one might say conclusive, arguments against reform. I was grateful that he didnt ask me to specify those arguments because, to be quite honest, I didnt see what they could be. More fool me!

Humphrey, of course, had thought it through in his customary meticulous fashion. He explained that if we once create genuinely democratic local communities, it wont stop there. Once they were organised, such communities would insist on more powers, which the politicians will be too frightened to withhold.

The inevitable result would be Regional Government.

This, as every Whitehall chap fully understands, would be very bad news! Let me give you an example: if there is some vacant land in, say, Nottingham, and there are rival proposals for its use -- a hospital or an airport, for instance -- our modus operandi is to set up an interdepartmental committee. Thats what we have always done and its what we always shall do.

This Committee creates months of fruitful work as all the interested Departments liaise: the Department of Health, the Department of Education, the Department of Transport, the Treasury, Environment, and so forth. We all have to see the papers, hold meetings, propose, discuss, revise, report back, and redraft. Its the normal thing.

And why? Because it generally results in mature and responsible conclusion. But if we had regional government they would decide the whole thing, themselves, in Nottingham. Probably in three or four meetings? How? Because theyre amateurs.

You might argue -- as I did, that day with Humphrey -- that, as its their city, they should have that right. But I was wrong, and so would you be, for the following reasons:

First: they cant be trusted to know whats right.

Second: there would be so much less work to do in Whitehall that Ministers could almost do it on their own. Therefore we, the Civil Service, would have much less power.

Third: theres nothing wrong with the Civil Service having less power per se. Indeed, I personally have always shunned power. [We remind readers that when Sir Bernard retired he was Head of the Home Civil Service Ed.] But the unfortunate corollary of the Civil Service having less power is that the wrong people get more power.

Once Sir Humphrey explained this to me, I quickly saw the error of my ways. At the top of his list of wrong people with power were politicians, local and national.

At first I thought Id found a flaw in his argument: since the politicians are put there by ordinary voters, I couldnt see how they could be the wrong people. Surely, in a democracy, power ought to be vested in the voters?

Sir Humphrey put me right. This is a British democracy, Bernard. It is different. British democracy recognises that you need a system to protect the important things and keep them out of the hands of the barbarians. Things like the arts, the countryside, the law, and the universities -- both of them. And we are that system.

He was right, of course. We, the Civil Service, run a civilised meritocracy, a smoothly-running government machine tempered only by occasional general elections. Ever since 1832 we have been gradually excluding the voters from government. Now we have got to the point where they vote just once every four or five years purely on which bunch of buffoons will try to interfere with our policies.

And I had been happy to see all that thrown away. As Sir Humphrey talked I flushed pink with embarrassment, and hung my head in shame.

Do you want the Lake District turned into a gigantic caravan site? he asked me. You want to make the Royal Opera House a Bingo Hall and the National Theatre into a carpet sale warehouse?

It looks like one, actually, I replied defensively.

Humphrey was pained. We gave the architect a knighthood so that no one would ever say that. I bit my lip. Do you want Radio 3 to broadcast pop music for twenty-four hours a day? And how would you feel if they took all the culture programmes off television?

I tried to defend myself. I dont know. I never watch them.

Nor do I, said Humphrey. But its vital to know that theyre there.

Our meeting ended. But I was still confused by one thing. To my certain knowledge Jim Hacker, both before he became Prime Minister and ever since, had always said that he wanted to reform the Civil Service.

Since he was the duly elected, democratically appointed Prime Minister [depending on your definition of democracy, see Party Games Ed.], I felt that whether or not we had a duty to reform local government, we certainly had a duty to reform the Civil Service. And if local government reform inevitably led to regional government, and therefore civil service reform, perhaps it was our duty to help.

I subsequently plucked up courage and wrote this in a letter to Sir Humphrey. He later told me that he had shredded it. I believe he did so out of kindness, in the knowledge that if my letter had remained on file and ever been seen again it would have fatally damaged any chance I had of reaching the dizzy heights of Permanent Secretary. I shall always be grateful to him for his generosity and foresight.

But I did keep Sir Humphreys handwritten reply to me [handwritten, so that there would be no copy in the office Ed.] which you may reprint if you wish.

[Naturally we accepted Sir Bernards kind offer, and we transcribe this rare personal letter from Sir Humphrey below Ed.]

Cabinet Office

Nov 12th

My Dear Bernard,

Whether or not the Prime Minister has said that he wants to reform the Civil Service is completely beside the point. No matter what he has said, it is not what he really wants.

So, you may ask, what does he really want? A better Britain? Yes. Better weather? That too. But what is the main objective of all politicians, what is it that obsesses them, day and night, for the whole of their lives? Popularity! Popularity, fame, publicity, their pictures on television, their voices on the radio, their photos in the newspapers. And why? Not just because it gives them a warm glow. Champagne gives them a warm glow, but theyre not obsessed with it.

No, the answer is that popularity is essential to them because they want to be re-elected. Government is fame and glory and importance and big offices and chauffeurs and being interviewed by Terry Wogan. Opposition is impotence and insignificance and people at parties asking you if you know Sir Robin Day.

Therefore, the only real job of a government is to get re-elected. And since constituencies of 60,000 voters are far too big for people to know their MP, the electors make up their minds on the basis of television and radio and the press. And then they vote for any idiot that a few dozen people in the constituency chose as their candidate.

In other words, a politician does not really represent the electors. His job is public performance and image-building and generally being famous and popular.

So now we must ask: what do the politicians REALLY want from the Civil Service?

1. Publicity. They want publicity for all the good things theyve done (or think theyve done). This is why we have over one thousand press officers in Whitehall. And why we spend so many hours helping them with speeches, articles and photo opportunities.

2. Secrecy. They want secrecy about anything that could be used against them. This is why we have the Official Secrets Act. And why we classify every document from the Trident missile specification to the tea ladies rota.

3. Words. They want us to help perpetuate the myth that they were elected democratically. This is why we help them write scripts for various charades, such as parliamentary debates. And we also write papers for Cabinet, so that the Prime Minister can update his colleagues on things that they have missed in the newspapers.

4. Government. They need us to govern the country. This is the most important task of all. The politicians have no training for it, no qualifications, no experience. And no interest in it either.

5. Pretence. Finally, they need us to keep up the pretence that they are making all the decisions and we are only carrying out their orders. This is why they take a lot of the work off our shoulders, such as:

a) ceremonial banquets;

b) unveilings;

c) launchings;

d) official openings;

3) foreign delegations, etc.

They do all of that work and leave us free for what we do best.

Therefore, politicians have no real wish to reform the Civil Service. Under our present political system we do precisely what the system requires of us. We do everything they need. And we do it, if I may say so, brilliantly.

So therefore it must follow as does night the day that if the prime Minister wants to reform the Civil Service he would have to start by reforming the political system.

But how can he? It is the system that has got him where he is. You do not kick away the ladder you climbed up on. Especially when youre still standing on it.

The fact that he proposed this when he was in Opposition all those years ago is completely understandable. Oppositions always want to change the system that is keeping them out of office. But once they are in office they want to keep it. For instance, no one in office has ever wanted to change our electoral system to proportional representation. And although every Opposition pledges itself to repeal the Official Secrets Act, no government has ever done so.

In conclusion, Bernard, it is our duty to ensure that the Prime Minister comes to see things this way. It is not for his own good. And we are not without allies: Professor Marriott himself, and Agnes Moorhouse, as you will see.

Yours ever,

Humphrey

[Bernard Woolley kept the letter safely, and it became one of his articles of faith as he strove in later years to help Ministers, and indeed Prime Ministers, understand their proper role.

While he puzzled long and hard over Sir Humphreys final paragraph, not understanding how Professor Marriott and Agnes Moorhouse -- of all people -- could be allies in this situation, Sir Humphrey had a second meeting with Ms Moorhouse. He made a brief note about it in his private diary Ed.]

Tuesday 13 November

I met Ms Moorhouse again today. I was determined to be courteous, no matter what. So when, after I thanked her for giving up her time, she replied, Wasting it, you mean? I did not rise to the bait.

On the contrary, I told her the plain truth: that the Prime Minister is so worried about her attitude to the police that he is proposing a wholesale reform of local government. Namely:

i) street representatives

ii) voting communities of 200 households (average)

iii) selection of local authority candidates by the whole electorate.

I gave her a paper to read which gave the plan in full detail. She was horrified, of course. It strikes at the very heart of our democratic social reforms, she told me.

By which you mean that the people do not want your policies, I said.

She denied it. Of course they would want our policies if they could understand all the implications. But ordinary voters are simple people, they dont see their needs, theyre not trained to analyse problems. How can they know whats good for them? They need proper leadership to guide them the way they ought to go.

Do you not think that the people might vote for such leadership?

She looked doubtful. The people dont always understand whats good for them.

I do so agree with you, I told her.

She was surprised. So I explained that the Civil Service has always given such unobtrusive leadership. That is how the Civil Service has survived the centuries. We have made the country what it is today. But no one would ever vote for us.

And so we found that we had much common ground. We are both confident, Agnes and I, that we know whats right for the country. The principal necessity is to have a small group in charge and just let the people have a mass vote every few years. Secondly, its not advisable for the voters actually to know the people theyre voting for, for if they were to talk to them they could fall for all sorts of silly conventional ideas.

At this moment Ms Moorhouse had what she took to be an original insight, although in truth I had been painstakingly leading her towards it.

Humphrey?

Yes, Agnes? We were quite cosy by now.

This would be a disaster for you too.

I explained that I had indeed realised that Community Councils would inevitably lead to regional government. And that was precisely why we had to stop the Prime Minister.

She was surprised. This was the first time that she realised that I too wanted to stop the Prime Minister. And that if I were to meet with success I would need her help.

I requested that she give me a written assurance that she would stop harassing the Houndsworth police force. She promised to write a letter guaranteeing that the police would not be made more democratically accountable [same thing Ed.].

Our meeting ended most amicably. She told me that I was a great loss to the militant revolution. I, in turn, expressed my true feeling that she was a great loss to the Civil Service. On this note of mutual respect and regret, we parted.

[Hackers diary continues Ed.]

November 14th

A meeting was scheduled this morning with Professor Marriott. Apparently Humphrey arranged it. I didnt know about it.

Bernard offered an explanation. I think he feels, Prime Minister, that if youre adopting his scheme it would help to talk to him.

Dorothy remarked that Humphrey must have an ulterior motive.

Why? I asked.

All Humphreys motives are ulterior, she replied simply.

I looked at Bernard. Are they? How does Sir Humphrey feel about these reforms?

Bernards answer was unclear. Well, I think, that is, Im sure, if, if its, er, if its what you want, then Sir Humphrey would, er, er

As hostile as that? I asked. Get him in here anyway.

When Humphrey appeared in the Cabinet Room Professor Marriott was conspicuous by his absence.

Wheres the Professor? I asked.

Hes just outside, replied Humphrey obligingly. Shall I bring him in now?

Just one thing, I said commandingly. Whats your view of this plan to reform local government?

I think its a brilliant way of bringing real democracy into the government of Britain.

What was he up to? I couldnt work it out. You mean youre in favour?

Thats not what he said, Dorothy remarked accurately.

He ignored her, as he always does. Prime Minister, if you genuinely want full democratic government, you will have my unquestioning support. Would you like to see Professor Marriott now?

Marriott was a tall, amiable fellow, nervously adjusting his bow tie, rightly overwhelmed at meeting me. We shook hands, exchanged a few pleasantries, and finally Humphrey came to the point.

Professor Marriott has a sequel to his original article, due to be published next month. Even more exciting than the first one.

I asked the Professor to tell me more.

Yes, encouraged Humphrey, tell the Prime Minister about the benefits to Parliament.

The Professor was only too delighted. Well, you see, under this scheme each borough would have its 500 street representatives and the local MP would be able to talk to them all in one hall.

So that theyd really be able to get to know each other, added Humphrey helpfully.

Exactly, said the Professor. And theyd be able to tell the people in their street all about him. Personal word-of-mouth recommendation for the MP.

This sounded terrific to me. I glanced at Dorothy, but she was looking decidedly less enthusiastic. She indicated that she wanted to speak.

Where would the constituency party come in? she asked pleasantly.

Marriott beamed. Well, thats the marvellous thing, you see. The party organisations would be completely bypassed. MPs would become genuinely independent.

I was aghast.

You see, continued Marriott enthusiastically, if they were personally known to all their constituents, or to their community representatives, then whether MPs could get re-elected or not would be nothing to do with whether the party backed them. It would depend on whether the constituents felt the MP was doing a good job.

Humphrey smiled at me. So if MPs werent dependent on the party machine they could vote against their own government party and get away with it, he explained.

Exactly, said the Professor again. Because thered be no need for official candidates, election would depend on the reputation of each individual MP, not the image of the party leader. Its the end of the party machine. The end of the power of the whips.

I couldnt begin to grasp how such a system could possibly work. So how would the government get its unpopular legislation through if it couldnt twist a few arms? How would it command a majority?

Marriotts answer was all too clear. Thats the whole point. It couldnt! A government couldnt command a majority! It would have to deserve it. Just like in 1832, when an MPs constituency was only about 1200 voters, there could only be legislation if a majority of the MPs were actually in favour of it. And MPs would only favour it if the voters did too. Parliament would be genuinely democratic again.

I couldnt believe my ears. Who in their right mind could possibly come to the Prime Minister with such a dangerous proposal? Only some damn-fool academic. As far as I was concerned the good professor could return to the ivory tower from whence he came -- and pronto!

Thank you so much, Professor, I said with finality. Absolutely fascinating. And I stood up and shook hands.

He was surprised. Beads of sweat broke out on the high dome of his receding forehead. Oh, er, thank you, Prime Minister, he said, and Bernard whisked him out of the room before his feet could touch the ground.

The heavy panelled door closed with a soft thud. Humphrey smiled at me. Isnt that splendid, Prime Minister? Real democracy! He clapped his hands together and rubbed them with glee.

I ignored him and turned to Dorothy. Is he right? Would that happen?

Im afraid it probably would.

Glassy-eyed, I repeated the dreadful threat aloud. MPs free to vote how they like? Its intolerable.

Just like the 1832 Reform Act, Humphrey confirmed.

But, I explained to Humphrey, as if he didnt know, the whole system depends on our MPs voting the way I tell them. Under this system they could follow the dictates of their constituents.

Or their consciences, agreed Humphrey.

Exactly! I said, echoing that bloody Professor. Dorothy, this whole schemes a complete non-starter.

Dorothy asked me what I was going to do, in that case, about Agnes Moorhouse and the police. I was stuck. But to my surprise Humphrey indicated that he had the answer. Ive had another talk with her, Prime Minister. Its all arranged. I wrote you this memorandum.

And he handed me a sheet of paper.

[Fortunately the memorandum in question was found beside the cassette on which this portion of the diary was dictate, and is reproduced below Ed.]

70 Whitehall, London SW1A 2AS

14 November

Memorandum

To: The Prime Minister

From: The Secretary of the Cabinet

Certain informal discussions have taken place, involving a full and frank exchange of views, out of which there arose a series of proposals which on examination proved to indicate certain promising lines of enquiry which when pursued led to the realisation that the alternative courses of action might in fact, in certain circumstances, be susceptible of discreet modification, in one way or another, leading to a reappraisal of the original areas of difference and pointing the way to encouraging possibilities of significant compromise and co-operation which if bilaterally implemented with appropriate give and take on both sides could if the climate were right have a reasonable possibility at the end of the day of leading, rightly or wrongly, to a mutually satisfactory conclusion.

H.A.

[Hackers diary continues Ed.]

I stared at the sheet of paper, mesmerised. Finally, I looked up at Humphrey. Could you summarise this please? I asked.

He thought hard for a moment. We did a deal, he replied.

He did a deal with Agnes Moorhouse? Splendid! How did you fix it?

He smiled humbly. Oh, the old system has its good points, you know. It works things out in its own time.

I sat back in my chair, relaxed, content to ask no more. Yes, it does, doesnt it? I murmured happily.

And the Marriott plan? he asked. He knew what my answer would be.

I dont think the nations ready for total democracy, do you? He shook his head sadly. Shall we say next century?

You could still be Prime Minister next century, Dorothy interjected.

Well, the one after, I said.

Yes, Prime Minister, said Humphrey, quite content. In fact we were all content, Humphrey, Dorothy and me. Friends at last.