I waited patiently. This pedantic wittering is the price I have to pay for Bernards undoubted efficiency. Unfortunately its this obsessive attention to detail that makes him both irritating and essential. I waited till he stopped talking, then I turned back to Malcolm.
Isnt it true that there are no votes for me in giving money to the Arts?
Yes but theres a lot of terrible publicity if you take it away.
Hes right. Its so unfair.
Humphrey spoke up for his vested interest again. Its not really unfair, Prime Minister. The arts lobby is part of the educated middle class. Its one of the few ways they can get their income tax back. Mortgage tax relief, university grants for their children, lump-sum pensions and cheap subsidised seats at the theatre, the opera and the concert. You shouldnt begrudge it to them.
I ticked him off. Humphrey, youre getting off the point.
Ah, he replied gravely, what was the point?
Unfortunately I couldnt remember. Bernard had to remind me. How to stop the Chief Associate Director of the National Theatre criticising you in his speech on Sunday.
Thats right! I turned emphatically to Humphrey. And since you know him, I suggest you have a quick word with him. You might point out that the knighthood which he might expect in the course of time is within the gift of the Prime Minister.
Humphrey wasnt impressed with this plan. Frankly, Prime Minister, he told me he couldnt care less about a knighthood.
Humphreys being silly. Everyone says that about a knighthood until its actually dangled before them.
[Sir Humphrey Appleby did indeed have lunch with Simon Monk of the National Theatre. They met in the restaurant front-of-house, where it could be guaranteed that their meeting would be completely discreet and unobserved owing to the unique food offered by that establishment. The luncheon is referred to in Simon Monks best-selling autobiography Sound and Fury Ed.]
We met in the theatre restaurant. Sir Humphrey Appleby had telephoned me previously, wanting to meet in a place where we wouldnt be overheard by people at the next table. Naturally I suggested our restaurant, where it was unlikely that there would be any people at the next table.
Sir Humphrey told me that the Prime Minister was paranoid again, about plays that attacked him. I asked Humphrey to tell Hacker that no one has ever submitted a play defending him, but Humphrey wasnt sure that would help.
Hackers in politics. Hes fair game. It seemed to me that hostile plays are just one of the crosses he had to bear. To his credit, Humphrey wasnt a bit concerned either. He can bear any number of crosses, he said with a sly grin, so long as theyre in the right place on the ballot paper.
Actually, I couldnt have cared less about Hackers problems. He doesnt spare a thought for mine. All I wanted to know was what that years Art Council grant was going to be. The Council needed the extra 30 million that it had applied for.
But Humphrey was enigmatic. My dear Simon! I couldnt disclose the figure in advance. Least of all to one of the Directors of the National Theatre.
I didnt expect him to disclose it, not in so many words. So I picked up the bowl of Grissini breadsticks that was on the table and offered them to him. Have some of these, I offered.
Humphrey carefully took three Grissini, and offered them to me.
I was appalled. Only three?
I couldnt believe it! But Humphrey nodded gloomily. Im afraid its the new diet. Three breadsticks is the absolute maximum.
Is that gross breadsticks or net breadsticks?
Net breadsticks.
I had to ask the next question, but I dreaded the answer. Then how much are we going to get at the National?
Solemnly Humphrey broke approximately one quarter off one of the breadsticks and handed it to me.
Only a quarter? But thats disastrous! How do they expect us to manage on a quarter of a million? [It should be noted that the amount in question was a raise of a quarter of a million Ed.]
Sir Humphrey looked innocent. I dont know where you got that figure from. He loves playing his little games.
I begged him to help. The problem was serious -- and genuine. A quarter of a million was not merely less than we had told the press was the absolute minimum to stave off disaster -- it was lower even than the real minimum required to stave off disaster.
Humphrey said that he could help no further. Even though hes on the Board of the Theatre he explained his first allegiance is to the Government and the Prime Minister. But this turned out to be another of his little games, for he continued: Let me make it quite clear that I am here to represent the Prime Ministers interests. Now certain things would gravely embarrass him. I must urge you on his behalf not to contemplate them.
I got my notepad out. Things were looking up. Good, I said. What are they?
He smiled. Well, you will be making the speech introducing him at the Awards dinner. It would be a courtesy to submit a draft to Number Ten in advance.
For approval? I was surprised.
Let us say for information. I saw the point. The Prime Minister is extremely anxious that your speech should not refer to the modesty of the grant increase. There are certain words he wants you to avoid: Miserly, Philistine[/i], Barbarism[/i], Skinflint, Killjoy. I was writing as fast as I could. Humphrey speaks fast. He also wants you to omit all reference to how much other countries spend on the arts.
I asked him for the figures. He immediately produced a sheet of paper. There you are. To make sure you dont mention them by accident.
I certainly wont mention them by accident, I confirmed.
Most important of all, concluded Sir Humphrey, the Prime Minister wants absolutely no comparison between the extra money your theatre needs and certain sums the Government spent last year on certain projects.
He was being more oblique than usual. I asked him to be more specific.
Well, suppose the sum you need is four million. Purely as an example, you understand. The Prime Minister earnestly hopes you will not draw attention to the fact that the Government spent five million on radar equipment for a fighter plane that had already been scrapped. Or that the Department of Energy has been able to afford to stockpile a thousand years supply of filing tabs. Or that another department has stocked up with a million tins of Vim. Not to mention a billion pounds written off the Nimrod early warning aircraft system.
Anything else we can do? I asked, writing furiously.
There are things you cant do, he reminded me hypocritically. What you could do is perhaps arrange for the Prime Minister to get an award of some sort? And let him know in advance?
This was a tall order. An award for Hacker? What on earth for? Philistine of the Year was the only title I could think of. I pointed out that he never even goes to the theatre.
To my surprise, Sir Humphrey defended him. He cant, really, hes frightened of giving the cartoonists and gossip columnists too much ammunition. He couldnt go to A Month in the Country because it would start rumours about a general election, he couldnt go to The Rivals because there have so many Cabinet Ministers after his job, and he couldnt go to The School For Scandal for fear of reminding the electorate that the Secretary of State for Education was found in bed with that primary school headmistress.
I almost felt sorry for Hacker.
And as for that Ibsen you did, An Enemy of the People Id got the point. So if you could give him some flattering honorary title, that would improve his image and appeal to his sense of self-importance
What on earth did Humphrey have in mind? Actor of the Year? For the most polished performance, disguising one backstage catastrophe after another? I suggested it.
Very droll, chuckled Humphrey. No, I think Comic Performance of the Year might be more appropriate.
I topped him Tragic Performance of the Year!
Both! said Humphrey, and we fell around.
[Hackers diary continues Ed.]