What about when I make my speech? I asked hopelessly. The audience will be totally hostile. There may even be boos.
Theres always lots of boos, said Malcolm. I was appalled. Was he serious? But we dont have to pay for it, he continued reassuringly. I suddenly realised he meant booze, not boos.
Booo! I hooted in explanation, and added a Sssss for good measure.
Bernard was amazed. Do actors boo? he asked, wide-eyed. I thought audiences did that.
Its an audience full of actors, I reminded him. Its their only chance in the year to do any booing, to get their own back on all the people who boo them.
Bernard made a suggestion. Why dont you go back to the Arts Minister and ask for an increase in the grant? Or, better still, send him along to the dinner instead of you. That way theyll all blame him. Thats what junior ministers are for, isnt it?
On the face of it, it was a smart idea. But on reflection I realised it wouldnt work. Hed just blame the Treasury.
You could talk to the Treasury, countered Bernard.
Ive been doing that. Thats the problem. For six weeks Ive been telling them to cut spending!
Its still better to send the Arts Minister, insisted Bernard.
Is it? I didnt believe it. Cant you see the headlines? JIM CHICKENS OUT. PRIME MINISTER RUNS AWAY FROM CRITICS.
They wouldnt say that if you had a major crisis to deal with.
I turned to Malcolm. Any major crises coming up, Malcolm?
Sadly, he shook his head. Not really, Prime Minister.
Incredible, that the lack of a crisis should be bad news for us! I racked my brains, but I couldnt think of one either. Any distant crisis we could bring forward? Malcolm and Bernard shook their heads hopelessly.
I tried to approach the problem positively. What sort of crisis would justify cancellation?
Bernard could think of plenty. The pound plunging, small war in the South Atlantic, nuclear power station catching fire
I stopped him. Bernard, I explained gently, I dont think any of those would help improve my image either.
No, but theyd justify you staying away, he said, completely forgetting that he whole idea was -- if not to improve my image -- at least to prevent it from deteriorating further.
Bernard had a sudden inspiration. I know! How about the death of a Cabinet colleague.
That would certainly do it! Is one imminent? I asked, trying not to appear too hopeful.
No, said Bernard cheerfully, glad to have solved what was, to him, an academic problem. But that would justify your absence without damaging your image, wouldnt it?
Malcolm agreed. Hes right. But we can hardly hope for that to fall on the right day. At least not by accident, he added darkly.
Was he hinting? I sincerely hope not. I could see that I really had no option, not at such short notice. Ill have to go, I decided. Ill keep a stiff upper lip. Grin and bear it.
Bernard said, You cant actually grin with a stiff upper lip because And he demonstrated. You see, stiff lips wont stretch horizontally
I might have hit him but he was saved by the bell -- the telephone bell. Sir Humphrey was outside, ever anxious to discuss the agenda for Cabinet.
I welcomed him. Ah Humphrey, never mind that agenda, I need help.
You do! Instantly I fixed my beady eye on him. You do? I wasnt sure if he was asking or agreeing.
Ive got to make a speech, I began. And I think it could be very embarrassing.
Oh Prime Minister, your speeches are nothing like as embarrassing as they used to be. In fact
These Civil Servants really are appallingly patronising. No, Humphrey. I didnt say my speech would be embarrassing. I said the occasion would be.
Indeed? Why?
I explained as impartially as I could. Itll be to an audience of hostile, narcissistic, posturing, self-righteous theatrical drunks.
The House of Commons, you mean.
I explained, in words of one syllable, that I meant the British Theatre Awards at the Dorchester [Hotel]. Being the guest of honour is not much of an honour if they dont honour the guest.
Humphrey got the point at once. The small Arts Council grant, you mean? Well, its very hard to influence the Chief Associate Director of the National Theatre, as I know only too well. Im on the Board of Governors.
I hadnt realised that. So I asked him what I do about it? How do I make the theatrical community feel that Im really one of them?
Surely, murmured Humphrey acidly, you dont want them to see you as a narcissistic, posturing, self-righteous theatrical drunk?
Not that it would be very difficult, said Bernard. I suppose he was alluding to my histrionic talents. After all, great statesmen have to be great actors. [Hacker begs an important question here Ed.] Nonetheless, the programme will be live on TV, and I can hardly risk a hostile reception.
Humphrey clearly felt that it was inevitable. With respect, Prime Minister, if one is going to walk into the lions den, you should not start by taking away the lions dinner.
So what is your advice?
Give them more of their dinner back. Increase the grant to the Arts Council. An extra two million or so would make a significant difference.
Two million? That would make it a fairly expensive dinner.
Humphrey smiled. Well, it is the Dorchester.
This was hardly an impartial recommendation. As a Governor of that subversive body [The National Theatre, not the Dorchester Hotel Ed.] he has a vested interest. And a conflict of interest too! Well, he may want to support that bloody place! But I dont owe them anything. They keep putting on plays attacking me. They set The Comedy of Errors in Ten Downing Street. And, I reminded him, they did a modern-dress Richard II, making him into a foolish, vainglorious national leader who got booted out for incompetence. Dont deny it, Humphrey! I know who they were getting at.
I was only going to suggest, Prime Minister, that it was better than setting Macbeth in Number Ten.
A feeble excuse. The truth is, they hate me there. They did a whole play attacking our nuclear policy, I reminded him. A farce.
The policy?
The play, Humphrey! He knew very well what I meant. I asked him why they did it, and why he wasnt concerned.
Its very healthy, Prime Minister.
Healthy? I couldnt see how.
Practically nobody goes to political plays. He sat back and crossed his legs urbanely. And half of those that go dont understand them. And half of those who understand them dont agree with them. And the seven who are left would have voted against the government anyway. Meanwhile, it lets people let off steam, and you look like a democratic statesman -- with a good sense of humour! -- for subsidising your critics.
I still didnt see that the pros outweighed the cons. If they want to criticism me they should pay for it themselves. From the Box Office.
Humphrey couldnt see that logic. Prime Minister, theyd never make enough money. Plays criticising the government make the second most boring theatrical evenings ever invented.
I was curious. What are the most boring?
Plays praising the government.
Personally I should have thought that theyd be much more interesting. And I still couldnt see why a theatre should insult me and then expect me to give it more money. But Humphrey explained that this is what artists always do. Undignified, isnt it? They advance towards the government on their knees, shaking their fists.
And beating me over the head with a begging bowl.
Um, Prime Minister, said Bernard, they cant beat you over the head if theyre on their knees. Not unless youre on your knees too, or unless theyve got very long arms.