Are you telling me Humphrey that the BES contract was won by bribery?
Oh Minister, I do wish you wouldn't use words like bribery.
What would you like me to say? Slush funds, sweeteners, brown envelopes?
Oh Minister these are extremely crude and unworthy expressions for what is no more than creative negotiation. It is the general practice.
You do realise what you're saying don’t you, Humphrey? I ratified that contract, didn’t I? In good faith!
And in that communiqué I issued to the press, I announced a British success won in a fair fight!
Mm, yes, I did wonder about that bit.
Now you're telling me it was got by bribery.
Oh, it was not got by bribery?
I said I'm not telling you it was got by bribery.
Well how would you describe these payments?
How does the contract describe them you mean? Oh, well, that's really quite simple. Retainers, personal donations, special discounts. Miscellaneous outgoings, agents' fees, political contributions, management expenses.
And how are these payments made?
Well anything from a numbered account in a Swiss bank, to a fistful of used oncers slipped under the door of the gents.
[Hacker has been offered the job of Transport Supremo.]
Sir Mark thinks there might be votes in it, and I do not intend to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I put it to you, Minister, that you are looking a Trojan horse in the mouth.
You mean if we look closely at this gift horse, we'll find it's full of Trojans?
Um, if you had looked the Trojan Horse in the mouth, Minister, you would have found Greeks inside. Well, the point is that it was the Greeks who gave the Trojan horse to the Trojans, so technically it wasn't a Trojan horse at all; it was a Greek horse. Hence the tag "timeo Danaos et dona ferentes", which, you will recall, is usually and somewhat inaccurately translated as "beware of Greeks bearing gifts", or doubtless you would have recalled had you not attended the LSE.
Yes, well, I'm sure Greek tags are all very well in their way; but can we stick to the point?
Sorry, sorry: Greek tags?
"Beware of Greeks bearing gifts." I suppose the EEC equivalent would be "Beware of Greeks bearing an olive oil surplus".
No, well, the point is, Minister, that just as the Trojan horse was in fact Greek, what you describe as a Greek tag is in fact Latin. It's obvious, really: the Greeks would never suggest bewaring of themselves, if one can use such a participle (bewaring that is). And it's clearly Latin, not because timeo ends in "-o", because the Greek first person also ends in "-o" – although actually there is a Greek word timao, meaning 'I honour'. But the "-os" ending is a nominative singular termination of a second declension in Greek, and an accusative plural in Latin, of course, though actually Danaos is not only the Greek for 'Greek'; it's also the Latin for 'Greek'. It's very interesting, really.
So what do we believe in?
At this moment, Bernard, we believe in stopping the minister from informing the Prime Minister.
Because once the Prime Minister knows, there will have to be an enquiry, like Watergate. The investigation of a trivial break-in led to one ghastly revelation after another and finally the downfall of a president. The golden rule is don't lift lids off cans of worms. Everything is connected to everything else. Who said that?
Nearly right. Actually, it was Lenin.
[The Minister has received a letter with information about sanctions violations.]
I'm trapped. I can't tell the PM, I can't not tell the PM.
I was just wondering, Minister, if we may not use the Rhodesia solution.
Bernard! You excel yourself! Of course, Minister, the Rhodesia solution!
What are you talking about?
Oil sanctions, remember? A member of the government was told about the way British companies were sanction-busting.
He told the Prime Minister.
He told the Prime Minister in such a way that the Prime Minister didn't hear him.
Would you mean I should mumble it or something in the division lobby?
No, Minister, you write a note.
In very faint pencil? Please, be practical.
No, Minister, it's awfully obvious; you write a note which is susceptible to misinterpretation.
Oh, I see. Dear Prime Minister, it has come to my attention that the Italian Red Terrorists are getting hold of British top secret bomb-making equipment—how do you misinterpret that?
So you don't write that. You use a more circumspect style, and you avoid any mention of bombs, or terrorists, or any of that.
Wouldn't that be rather difficult? Is that what it's all about?
You say—Bernard, write this down—My attention has been drawn, on a personal basis, to information which suggests the possibility of certain irregularities under Section... [snaps fingers]
Section 1 of the Import, Export and Customs Powers Defence Act 1939 C.
Thank you, Bernard. You then go on to suggest that somebody else should do something about it. Prima facie evidence suggests that there could be a case for further investigation; to establish whether or not enquiries should be put in hand. And then you smudge it all over.
Nevertheless, it should be stressed that available information is limited, and relevant facts could be difficult to establish with any degree of certainty.
Then, if there were an inquiry, you'd be in the clear, and everybody would understand that the busy PM might not have grasped the full implications of such a letter
They certainly would; that's most unclear.
Thank you, Minister. Then you arrange for the letter to arrive at Number 10 on the day the PM leaves for an overseas summit, so there's also doubt about whether it was the PM or the acting PM who read the note. And so the whole thing is written off as a breakdown in communications, everybody's in the clear, and everybody can get on with their business.
Including the Red Terrorists.
If it's our job to carry out government policies, shouldn't we believe in them?
Oh, what an extraordinary idea! I have served 11 governments in the past 30 years. If I'd believed in all their policies, I'd have been passionately committed to keeping out of the Common Market, and passionately committed to joining it. I'd have been utterly convinced of the rightness of nationalising steel and of denationalising it and renationalising it. Capital punishment? I'd have been a fervent retentionist and an ardent abolitionist. I'd have been a Keynesian and a Friedmanite, a grammar school preserver and destroyer, a nationalisation freak and a privatisation maniac, but above all, I would have been a stark-staring raving schizophrenic!
In addition to your existing responsibilities, you will be Cabinet Minister responsible for the Arts.
[smiling] Eh? I say, that's rather good, isn't it? Hold on -- how do you know about this before I do?
Oh, I just happened to be with the Cabinet Secretary shortly after the decision was taken.
[pleased] Cabinet Minister with the responsibility for the Arts, eh? Well well well!
Thank you for letting me know, Humphrey! Anything more? I'm just about to start a meeting.
Oh, the meeting, yes. Now Minister, I do hope that you've considered the implications of your new appointment on the subject you're discussing.
What, rescuing a football club?
No, no, no; I was wondering how it would look if, as Cabinet Minister responsible for the Arts, your first action would be to knock down an art gallery.
