Both versions are perfectly true, but in my opinion it shows that the BBC is biased against me. I tried to explain this to Annie, who couldnt see it.
Why shouldnt they report the facts? she asked.
I explained that they dont have to report all the facts. Furthermore, theres nothing wrong with visiting marginal constituencies, but they imply that there is.
Annie still didnt understand. You mean, its all right to report the majority of the facts but not the facts of the majorities?
Thats the kind of smart-alec remark that really makes me angry. The point is, its all part of a wider picture. The BBC did the same to me earlier on, in the Nine OClock News, when they reported our dispute with the French: Mr Hacker claimed that the action was permissible, but the French government stated it was a violation of the treaty.
Isnt that true?
Of course its true! I exploded. But it makes it sound like me, on my own, being put down by the whole of France. It makes me look as though Im in the wrong.
But the French think you are.
Thats not the bloody point! I shouted. They could have said: Monsieur Dubois claimed that the action was a violation of the treaty, but the British Government stated it was permissible. Then it would have sounded -- quite correctly -- as though all of us were putting some cheeky Frog in his place. But they dont say that! Oh no! They want to get me!
Annie was apparently undisturbed by the BBCs manifest bias, hatred, intolerance and corruption. But what they said was still true, she reiterated stubbornly.
My jaw seized up with fury and frustration. Through clenched teeth I snarled, Its still biased to say so!! The others true too!!
I didnt want to demean myself by losing my temper in front of Dorothy, whod so far stayed very quiet. I took several deep breaths, then strolled calmly over to the drinks table and poured myself a very large Scotch.
Annie remained completely calm. Jim, she said, Im not interested in your paranoia, Im interested in that school.
Dorothy spoke up, relieved not to have to take sides in a family fight. Yes, it must be a good place if parents are queuing up to get their kids into it.
What a pity that they cant all get in, said Annie, and poured coffee for us both. Why cant parents send their children there?
No room, I explained.
Dorothy corrected me. There is room actually, Jim. School numbers are falling.
Shes right, in one sense. But it would be poaching from other schools, I pointed out.
Annie looked up. Whats wrong with that?
Its obvious. The other schools would then be too short of pupils. Theyd have to close.
Great, said Annie. So then St Margarets would take over their buildings.
I tried to explain to Annie that they couldnt do that. It wouldnt be fair.
Who to? she wanted to know.
To the teachers in the schools that had to close.
But the good ones would be taken on by the popular schools. Theyd be needed.
What about the bad ones? I argued. It wouldnt be fair on them.
What about being fair on the kids? said Annie. Or are the teachers jobs more important?
I sipped my coffee, and put my feet up on the leather footstool. Its no good, Annie. I was tolerant. Whos to say which are the bad teachers? It cant be done.
Why not?
I couldnt really think of the reason, but I was sure there was one. Then, to my surprise, Dorothy asked the same question: Why not?
This threw me. And to my surprise I found that I was really stuck.
Dorothy took up the argument. Suppose schools were like doctors, she pondered, helping herself to a peppermint cream chocolate. After all, under the National Health Service you can go to whichever doctor you like, cant you?
I nodded.
And the doctor gets paid per patient, she continued thoughtfully. So why dont we do the same with schools? A National Education Service. Parents choose the school they want, and the school gets paid per pupil.
Theres be an outcry, I replied.
From parents? said Dorothy, knowing the answer full well.
No, I had to acknowledge. From the Department of Education.
I see. And she smiled. Then she asked another question to which she already knew the answer. And who has the most votes, parents or the DES?
That wasnt exactly the point. And she knew it! The DES would block it, I reminded her.
And then she said something so revolutionary, so riveting and so ruthless that it shook me rigid. [Hacker often displayed a talent, probably subconscious, for alliteration when excited Ed.]
Fine, said Dorothy. Get rid of them!
It took me a moment to realise what she meant. I think I just stared blankly at her. Get rid of the Department of Education? I didnt really understand.
Get rid of it! she repeated. Abolish it. Remove it.
I asked her what she meant, exactly.
Eliminate it. Expunge it. Eradicate it, she explained.
I was beginning to understand what she was driving at. But I asked her to explain further.
She looked slightly flummoxed. Um I dont quite know how else to well, let me put it this way. She hesitated for a moment, considering her choice of words carefully. What I mean is, she said finally, get rid of it.
Get rid of it? I asked.
She confirmed that she meant that I should get rid of it.
I couldnt do that, I said. I was in a daze.
Why? she asked. What does it do?
And, suddenly, I realised that I could do that! Local Authorities could administer everything that is needed. We could have a Board of National School Inspectors, and give all the rest of the DESs functions to the Department of the Environment. And I could send that house-trained idiot Patrick to the House of Lords.
Golly! I wondered in awe. What will Humphrey say?
Dorothy smiled a beatific smile. Whatever he says, she said happily, I want to be there when you tell him.
And witness a clash between the political will and the administrative will?
She sat back thoughtfully. I think it will be a clash between the political will and the administrative wont.
December 18th
I called Humphrey in first thing this morning. Dorothy was with me. I tried to disguise my excitement as I casually told him that I wanted to bounce a new idea off him.
The word new usually alerts Humphrey that troubles in store, but this time he seemed perfectly relaxed and actually chuckled when I told him that Ive realised how to reform our education system.
So I let him have it. Humphrey, Im going to let parents take their children away from schools. They will be able to move them to any school they want.
He was unconcerned. You mean, after application, scrutiny, tribunal hearing and appeal procedures?
It was my turn to chuckle. No, Humphrey. They could just move them. Whenever they want.
Im sorry, Prime Minister, I dont follow you. I could see that he genuinely didnt understand.
Dorothy spelled out, abrasively. The government, Sir Humphrey, is going to let parents decide which school to send their children to.
Suddenly he understood that we actually meant what we were saying. He exploded into protest. Prime Minister, youre not serious?
I nodded benevolently. Yes I am.
But thats preposterous!
Why? asked Dorothy.
He ignored her completely. You cant let parents make these choices. How on earth would parents know which schools are best?
Coolly I appraised him. What school did you go to, Humphrey?
Winchester.
Was it good? I asked politely.
Excellent, of course.
Who chose it?
My parents, naturally. I smiled at him. Prime Minister, thats quite different. My parents were discerning people. You cant expect ordinary people to know where to send their children.
Dorothy was manifestly shocked at Humphreys snobbery and litism. Why on earth not?
He shrugged. The answer was obvious to him. How could they tell?
Dorothy, a mother herself, found the question only too easy to answer. They could tell if their kids could read and write and do sums. They could tell if the neighbours were happy with the school. They could tell if the exam results arent good.