- Morning. - Morning.
You have to leave for the TV studios in five minutes.
- Do you remember what the interview's about? - Local government.
The one thing I can do nothing about.
These wretched councils are run by a bunch of corrupt morons who are too clever by half.
The most a moron can be is less clever by half. These councillors are democratically elected.
Depends how you define democracy. Only about 25% of people vote in a local election.
Those who do regard it as a popularity pole for the real leaders in Westminster.
- But councillors are still representatives. - Who do they represent?
Nobody knows who their councillor is. Do you know who yours is?
- No. - Well, no, of course you don't.
The councillors know this,
so they spend four totally unaccountable years on a publicly subsidised ego trip.
They ruin the inner cities, let the schools fall to bits,
they demoralise the police and undermine law and order, then blame me.
- Will you say that? - I've just said it. Didn't you hear me?
- No, I mean on television. - Of course not. It'd make me sound intolerant.
Houndsworth Council leader, Agnes Moorhouse,
threatens to withhold police funds and ban them from council property.
She can't do that. Section 5 of the Police Act, 1964.
Councils must provide an adequate and efficient police force.
She says that until the police force is 50% black, it can't be adequate or efficient.
- She can't prove that. - Unfortunately, her own police force
is the most inadequate and least efficient in the country.
- Everybody's terrified that she will prove it. - (KNOCK AT DOOR)
Humphrey, we've got to do something about Agnes Moorhouse.
- Her borough's practically a no-go area. - Indeed.
- What? - How about a strongly worded letter?
And get a more strongly worded letter in reply, copied to the newspapers? Asking for trouble.
- Draw her attention to the law. - She is a lawyer.
- Getting round the law is what she's paid for. - Why not just ignore her?
Have everyone say I'd handed over control of the inner cities to the militant loonies?
She's a wild woman, Humphrey. No, someone's got to have a word with her.
- Point out the security implications. - A law officer?
No. Can't be a political confrontation. Has to be an official.
Somebody with responsibility for security.
(MUTTERS) Somebody with responsibility...
No, no, no, no, Prime Minister, no! She's a monster!
No, i-i-it's up to Scotland Yard, the Home Office, the Security Branch, er, Special Branch, I mean,
the... the Ml5, the Lord Chancellor, Department of the Environment...
- The White Fish Authority? - White Fish... No, no, no!
- Don't you coordinate the security services? - Yes, yes...
- Or should we give that job to someone else? - No, no, no, no, no.
That's agreed, then. A quiet word. Come to a gentlemen's agreement.
But she's not a gentleman!
She's not even a lady!
I want YOU to handle her. Come on.
Handle her?
- Agnes Moorhouse to see you, Sir Humphrey. - Right.
Oh, my dear lady, how very nice to meet you. Come in. Won't you come and sit down? Now...
Um... right... Would you get Miss Moorhouse a cup of tea. Or is it Mrs Moorhouse?
- Is my marital status really your concern? - Er, no, no.
It's just... You know, I was just... worried about whether the... er...
Er, would you get... her a cup of tea?
- What should I call you? Ms Moorhouse? - Call me Agnes. What shall I call you?
Um...
...well, you can call me Sir Humphrey.
Now, my dear lady...
I'm not your "dear lady". Don't patronise me and cut out the sexist crap, OK?
Er... OK, Agnes.
I wanted us to have this meeting so we could try and understand one another.
- I'm sure we're in agreement. - Really?
You have your own views about how Britain should be run,
but I'm sure we agree on a fundamental basis of order and authority.
- That's half true. - Half true?
- You agree, I don't. - But it's obvious!
Yes, if you've got it made under this system, you use authority to preserve your privileges.
What about the homeless, the unemployed, the poor?
I know all about them.
- (HUMPHREY CHUCKLES) - Really? What do you know?
I've read all the published papers. I've seen all the statistics.
Believe me, dear lady... Agnes, I... I...
- I do know all about them. - Fine.
What does half a pound of margarine cost?
- What? - What does half a pound of margarine cost?
Oh... er... How should I know? Er... 20p.
- 20p?! - £2.40! I don't know!
Right. Why should you? What time do Social Security offices open?
How long can you run a one-bar fire with 50 pence in the meter?
I'm not entirely sure I follow.
If you knew that, you wouldn't agree about using authority to support the system.
I do understand. I do sympathise. It'd be marvellous if there was no poverty.
- But we haven't the resources to achieve that. - Who hasn't?
- The nation. - Really?
Does this desk belong to the nation? This china?
- Porcelain. - Porcelain.
- These portraits? Or are they your own? - They're government property.
Oh, good. They should fetch about - what? - 80,000.
That'll keep 20 one-parent families for a year. What about your salary?
- That has nothing to do with it! - Good, then we'll have that, too.
Leave you £100 a week. That's 70,000 a year for the needy.
My salary is merely part of a complex economic structure.
We'll simplify it.
After all, you don't want to make a profit out of serving your country, do you?
Ah, tea.
Over here, Eileen. Um...
How very nice. Thank you so much. Shall I be mother?
Tell me, um... Agnes...
...this policy of yours of only allowing free-range eggs
to be sold in your borough, how does this help poverty?
Animals have rights too, you know. A battery chicken's life isn't worth living.
Would you want to spend your life packed in with 600 other squawking, smelly creatures,
unable to breathe fresh air, unable to move, unable to think?
Certainly not. That's why I never stood for Parliament.
- Sugar? - No, thank you.
Now, let's turn to this matter of the police.
You want to withhold funds from the police, ban them from council property,
sack the Chief Constable, and allow several no-go areas.
- That's it. - But can't you see
that an adequate police enforcement is in all our interests?
And it is especially in the interests of all those poor, ordinary folk
who dwell in the high-crime housing estates.
- I don't accept that. - Oh.
You want them to be in danger of being mugged and raped and bombed?
- Can't be helped. - But this could lead to the overthrow
- of our system of government, our way of life! - Yours, not theirs.
- You would be happy to abolish Parliament? - Yes.
- The courts? - Yes.
- The monarchy?! - Of course.
Perhaps you'd like to burn down my office! That matches are over here!
- No, certainly not. - Why?
I may need it.
- You know that Agnes Moorhouse woman? - Yes?
- I told Humphrey to have a word with her. - Interesting experiment.
He says it went well, but he didn't want to talk about it and had four whiskies in ten minutes.
What is it about local government?
I've had trouble with the town hall. They've cancelled the old people's Christmas party.
- Why? - New staff overtime agreements.
"It's your husband's fault. Tell him to give us the money and you can have the party."
Every piece of stupidity and incompetence in every town hall in Britain is blamed on me.
- (DOORBELL) - That'll be Dorothy.
I asked her up here to have a word about that very thing. Dorothy, come in.
Come and sit down. Now, tell me, what is wrong with local government?
Well, it's a them-and-us situation.
- The local authority ought to be us. - Us the people or us the government?
- In a democracy that ought to be the same thing. - We all know it isn't.
I mean us, the people. They ought to be running things for us.
But they're running things for them. For their power, their convenience and their benefit.
- I know that. - So what's the answer?
- Fight them. - No. Make them us.
- How do you mean? - How do you stop a major government project?
Join the Civil Service.
If you're an ordinary person.
- I can't remember what that was like. - Judging from opinion polls, you'll soon find out.
- Just imagine you're an ordinary person, Jim. - Well, I'll try.
Imagine you want to stop a road-widening scheme or an airport being built. What do you do?
- Write to your MP. - That does the trick?
Of course not, but that's what ordinary people do 'cause ordinary people are stupid.
- Is that why they elected you? - Stop barracking, darling, please.
I'm trying to understand what Dorothy's driving at.
Ordinary people form a group to fight official plans they don't want
and this group represents the local people.
This group is different from the local authority
because the local authority doesn't really represent the local people.
- Why not? - Councillors are all drawn from tiny local parties.
When a local community really cares about an issue, they form a committee,
and then they talk to people in the supermarkets and on the doorstep.
They drum up support and raise money.
And this money isn't like the rates. It's spent on what people actually want it spent on.
I bet ordinary people would like the old folks to have a Christmas party.
The town hall would rather have a new town hall
or a councillors' fact-finding mission to the Bahamas.
- What do you do? - It's obvious. Abolish them.
Invest all power in the central government.
- That's exactly what Humphrey would say. - See? What?
Jim, you've completely missed the point of everything I've been saying.
The idea is to return power to ordinary people and take it away from the town-hall machine.
- Make local government genuinely accountable. - Yes, but how?
It's all in an article in this month's "Political Review" by Professor Marriott.
Now, you create little voting districts.
200 or so households electing their own little parish council, a city village.
The chairman of this little parish council is their representative on the local authority.
You'd have about 500 councillors to each borough.
That's right. So they'd elect an executive council.
The local authority would have a parliament and a cabinet.
Parliament don't elect the Cabinet. We don't want that.
- That'd be taking participation to extreme lengths. - These councils would.
Each councillor would be in door-to-door contact with the people who voted for him.
Dorothy, this could be like the Great Reform Act of 1832.
These councils are like old rotten boroughs.
Half a dozen people deciding who'll be in the town hall for the next four years.
- Precisely. - And I shall be the great reformer!
Hacker's Reform Bill. I shall introduce it myself.
The power of this country does not lie in offices and institutions,
it lies in the stout hearts and strong wills of the yeomen of Britain!
Women have the vote, too!
The yeowomen of Britain.
Yeopersons. Yeopeople? No.
...the people of this island race.
On their broad and wise shoulders...
You can't have wise shoulders.
On their broad shoulders and wise hearts... heads...
In their wise heads lies our destiny.
We must give back power to the people!
And I shall be the one to introduce this... um...
What shall I call this new scheme?
Democracy?
- You wanted to see me? - Oh, yes, Bernard.
Bernard, I want to have a word with you about Professor Marriott's article.
- I think it's time we reformed local government. - Do you?
Yes.
At least I think I did.
That is, I'm not wholly against it.
Although there are many... convincing, some might say conclusive, arguments against it.
Some might indeed, Bernard.
Yes. Why?
Because once you create
genuinely democratic local communities, it won't stop there.
- Won't it? - Well, of course it won't.
You see, once they get established, they'll insist on more power.
Politicians will be too frightened to withhold them, so you'll get regional government.
- Would that matter? - Bernard, come and sit down.
What happens at the moment if there is some vacant land in, say, Nottingham
and there are rival proposals for its use - hospital, college, airport?
We set up an inter-departmental committee. Health, Education, Transport, Environment.
Ask for papers, hold meetings, propose, discuss, revise, report back, re-draft.
Precisely. Months of fruitful work.
Leading to a mature and responsible conclusion.
But if you have regional government, they decide it all in Nottingham!
Probably in a couple of meetings! Complete amateurs!
- It is their city. - And what happens to us?
- Well, much less work. - Yes, much less work!
So little that ministers might be able to do it on their own, so we'd have much less power!
I don't know if I want power.
If the right people don't have power, know what happens?
The wrong people get it!
- Politicians, councillors, ordinary voters! - But aren't they supposed to in a democracy?
- This is a British democracy, Bernard! - How do you mean?
British democracy recognises that you need a system
to protect the important things of life
and keep them out of the hands of the barbarians!
Things like the opera...
...Radio 3...
...the countryside... the law...
...the universities.
Both of them.
- And we are that system. - Gosh!
We run a civilised, aristocratic government machine
tempered by occasional general elections.
Since 1832, we have been gradually excluding the voter from government.
Now we've got them to a point where they just vote once every five years
for which buffoons will try to interfere with OUR policies
and you are happy to see all that thrown away?
Well, no, no, I didn't mean...
Bernard, do you want the Lake District turned into a gigantic caravan site?
The Royal Opera House into a bingo hall?
The National Theatre into a carpet sale warehouse?
Well, it looks like one, actually.
We gave the architect a knighthood so that nobody would ever say that.
Do you want Radio 3 to broadcast pop music 24 hours a day?
How would you feel if they took all the culture programmes off television?
- I never watch them. - Neither do I, but it's vital to know they're there!
You said local government was corrupt and incompetent.
So it is, Bernard. So corrupt and incompetent that even ministers recognise it.
Which means that they centralise.
They give all the responsible jobs to us.
We... are the flower of government, Bernard.
Local government may be a dunghill...
...but it grows beautiful roses.
You mean...
Yes, that's right, Bernard.
But if we try to clean up the dunghill
and... lose our balance...
- We land in the... - Thank you, Bernard.
That's very good of you. Thank you.
So you see why I'm so worried, Arnold.
This Marriott scheme is the thin end of the wedge. It could eventually undermine the Civil Service.
Oh, I don't think there's any danger of that. Not if you play it right.
Hacker's just grasping at straws.
It's the old logical fallacy. All cats have four legs. My dog has four legs...
Therefore my dog is a cat.
He's suffering from politician's logic.
Something must be done therefore we must do it.
But doing the wrong thing is worse than doing nothing.
Doing anything is worse than doing nothing.
After all, what is the one thing that obsesses politicians throughout their careers?
Well, obviously publicity and popularity. Name in the paper, face on the telly.
- Anything to help get them re-elected. - Quite.
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 Robin Day.
But, Arnold, reforming the Civil Service might win them popularity.
But it can't ever happen... can it, Humphrey?
- Er... why not, Arnold? It's the same as in local government.
Constituencies of 60,000 are far too big for people to know their MP.
Electors make up their minds on the basis of the telly and the radio and the press.
Yes, they pick their favourite party leader,
then they vote for whatever clown a few people in their party have chosen as their candidate.
- I do understand how the system works, Arnold. - But do you?
Listen, Humphrey, if a politician lives or dies by his media image,
then his survival depends on the Civil Service publicity machine
helping him with his fatuous speeches and articles and photo opportunities.
Politicians are dependent on us.
A thousand press officers to publicise their little triumphs.
The Official Secrets Act to conceal their daily disasters.
So what you're saying is that under Professor Marriott's scheme,
MPs would be elected on their local reputation rather than on their leader's media image.
Yes, governments and ministers would have to earn their votes.
Actually do what the electors want instead of leaving us to do it our way
while they do the fame and glory bit.
Frightening thought.
Frightening to us, but what about the Prime Minister?
Of course. Even more frightening.
Reforming the Civil Service would remove his life-support system.
It would kick away the ladder that's put him where he is.
While he's still standing on it.
That's right.
The only way to reform the Civil Service system is to reform the political system.
No government's going to reform the system that put it into power.
The thing is to get the Prime Minister to see the danger.
That's your job.
I know. I'll tell him it'll be the most courageous thing he's ever done.
That always does the trick.
- (KNOCK AT DOOR) - Yes?
- Agnes Moorhouse, Sir Humphrey. - Ah, Agnes.
Why don't you sit over here?
Agnes, the Prime Minister's really worried about your attitude to the police.
Oh, good.
So he's proposing a wholesale reform of local government.
Street representatives, voting communities of 200 households,
total involvement of the borough electorate in the selection of candidates.
- This isn't serious? - Oh, I'm afraid it is.
This strikes at the heart of our democratic social reforms.
Do you mean the people don't want your policies?
Of course they would if they could understand, but the ordinary voters are simple people.
They don't see their needs. They can't analyse problems.
They need leadership to guide them.
And don't you think "the people" would vote for such leadership?
- People don't understand what's good for them. - Oh... I do so agree with you.
- Do you? - Of course!
That's how the Civil Service has survived for centuries.
We made this country what it is, but nobody would ever vote for us!
- We know what's right for this country! - So do we!
The only way is to have a small group in charge and let the people have a vote every few years.
If they knew the people they were voting for...
If they actually talked to them, they'd fall for all the silly conventional ideas!
- Humphrey... - Agnes?
This would be a disaster for you, too.
I know.
Community councils always lead to regional government.
Agnes... we must stop the Prime Minister!
- You want to stop him, too? - Of course. And you must help me.
- How? - Well, I think I know how to do it.
I want your written assurance that you will stop harassing your local police.
I mean, stop making them democratically accountable to you.
It will remove some of the urgency.
Right. What do you want me to say?
Well, I thought...
...it might go something like this.
Oh, Humphrey...
...you're a great loss to the militant revolution.
And you, my dear Agnes...
...are a great loss to the Civil Service.
- Why does Humphrey want me to see Marriott? - He must have an ulterior motive.
- Why? - All Humphrey's motives are ulterior.
Has he, Bernard? What does Humphrey really think about this plan?
Well, er... Well, I think...
That is, I'm sure, if it's what you want...
- I'm sure Sir Humphrey would... - (DOOR OPENS)
- He would... er... - As bad as that?
- Professor Marriott is outside. Will you see him? - Yes, of course.
- Bernard, I wonder if you'd be kind enough. - What's your view of the Marriott plan?
It is a brilliant way of bringing real democracy into the government of Britain.
- So you're in favour? - That's not what he said.
If you want real democratic government, you will have my unquestioning support.
Professor Marriott.
Professor, come in. Good of you to come. Do sit down.
- What an honour to meet you. - Yes, I know.
Professor Marriott has a sequel to his original article that's due to be published next month.
It is even more exciting than the first one.
- Tell me more, Professor. - Tell the PM about the benefits to Parliament.
Well, as you know, under my local government scheme,
each borough would have its 500 street representatives.
This means the local MP would be able to talk to them all in one hall.
They'd get to know him.
And tell all the people in their street about him. Word-of-mouth recommendation.
- Sounds terrific. - Where would the constituency party come in?
Ah, that's the marvellous thing.
Party organisations would be completely bypassed.
- MPs would become genuinely independent. - What?
If they were known to all their constituents or their committee representatives,
then getting re-elected would be nothing to do with whether the party backed them or not
but on whether the constituents felt they were doing a good job.
If the MP wasn't dependent on his party machine,
he could vote against his own party and get away with it.
There'd be no official candidates.
Election would depend on an MP's reputation, not the image of the party leader.
An end of the party machine. An end to the power of the whips.
How would the government gets its unpopular legislation through without twisting the odd arm?
- How would it command a majority? - It couldn't.
There could only be legislation if a majority of the MPs were actually in favour of it.
Parliament would become genuinely democratic.
Prime Minister, it is the most courageous policy you have ever proposed.
Professor, thank you so much. Fascinating. Goodbye.
Thank you, Prime Minister.
Prime Minister, it's a splendid idea.
- Real democracy. - It's out of the question.
The Marriott scheme was our way of controlling the local authority.
- What will we do about Agnes Moorhouse? - I've had another word with her.
To put it simply, Prime Minister, certain informal discussions took place
involving a full and frank exchange of views, out of which there arose a series of proposals
which proved to indicate certain promising lines of inquiry,
which, when pursued, led to the realisation that the alternative courses of action
might, in fact, in certain circumstances, be susceptible of discreet modification,
leading to a reappraisal of the areas of difference
and pointing the way to encouraging possibilities of compromise and cooperation
which, if bilaterally implemented with appropriate give and take on both sides,
might, if the climate were right, have a possibility, at the end of the day,
of leading, rightly or wrongly, to a mutually satisfactory resolution.
What the hell are you talking about?
We did a deal.
Oddly enough, she didn't seem to like the idea of democracy any more than you.
- Or you. - Quite so, dear lady.
Well, I think we're all agreed that the nation isn't quite ready for total democracy.
Perhaps... er... next century?
Well, you could still be Prime Minister next century.
- Well, the one after that. - Yes, Prime Minister.