But Annie wouldnt let it go. I think that a kid losing a dog is much more real than a lot of overgrown schoolboys shouting insults at each other. I think the army ought to rescue that dog.
Bloody stupid idea! Spend thousands and thousands of pounds in a dog rescue operation when you could replace it for nothing from Battersea Dogs Home? Kids lose dogs every day. Should the army mount rescue operations for all of them? Its just a television sob story.
Annie told me I dont understand how ordinary people feel.
I happen to be an ordinary person myself, I replied loftily.
Surely not!
I tried to explain to her that I am in charge of the responsible control of public money. Its not for me to spend taxpayers money to buy a bit of easy popularity.
If popularitys so easy, said Annie, hitting straight below the belt, how come youre so low in the opinion polls? She argued that to save the dog would cost a fraction of a penny per taxpayer, theyd all like it done, and that sometimes you have to do things that arent economic if you live in a civilised humane society.
I told her to write a paper on that and submit it to the Treasury. We dont get a lot of laughs in the Cabinet Economic Committee.
June 23rd
Ive had some shocks and surprises during my time in politics, but today I think I had the greatest surprise ever.
The Director-General of MI5 came to see me. Sir Geoffrey Hastings, by name. A tall, shambling St Bernard of a man, with mournful brown tired eyes and wobbly droopy jowls.
Bernard showed him in to my study, and I invited them to sit down. Hastings looked pointedly at Bernard. I told him that I always have Bernard present at my meetings.
Not this time, Prime Minister, he said gently but firmly.
On reflection, I realise that I dont always have Bernard present at my meetings, and I let him go. After hed gone I realised that I hadnt been given any papers for this meeting. But Hastings indicated that this was on his instructions. Apparently the meeting was too serious for papers. In other words, there should be no record of it at all. This is almost unheard of in Whitehall, where everything is minuted.
I was agog. And my agogness was soon to be rewarded.
Weve just received some information, murmured Hastings.
I was somewhat perplexed. Isnt that what youre supposed to do?
He nodded. You know Sir John Halstead? I nodded. I never knew Sir John Halstead personally, but everyone knows he was Head of MI5 in the sixties. And he died last month. He left a whole lot of his personal papers to us. Weve started to go through them. Its very clear he was passing government secrets to Moscow for several years in the fifties and sixties.
I found it hard to believe what I was being told. The Head of MI5 a Russian agent? Incredible.
Geoffrey Hastings seemed a little embarrassed to be telling me this at all. Im not surprised. I asked him why Halstead left the papers to MI5.
His Will says its a final act of conscience. But I think he just wanted to do a bit of posthumous gloating. Show us he got away with it. But its a shattering blow. And Geoffrey certainly looked shattered. The bags under his eyes extended halfway down his cheeks.
How much did he tell the Russians? I asked.
That hardly matters, said Geoffrey. I mean, what with Burgess and Maclean and Philby and Blake and Fuchs and the Krogers, so many people were telling them things that one more didnt really make much difference.
So what is the point? If it didnt matter about the secrets, I couldnt see any reason why it should matter.
How wrong I was! Geoffrey Hastings gazed gloomily at me, his salt and pepper moustache flapping in the breeze. Ive hardly ever seen a more lugubrious figure. The point is, said Geoffrey in a voice of profound melancholy, he was one of us.
One of us?
He could see that I didnt quite get the full significance. He joined MI5 straight from Oxford. Been in the Civil Service all his life. If this ever gets out, all of us who were recruited by him will suspects for ever.
Suddenly I saw the seriousness of it all. I see, I said, and eyed him speculatively. And youre not a Russian agent, are you? Geoffrey stared at me coldly, so I hastened to reassure him. Only joking, I said, but youre not, are you? He remained silent. I realised that, if I ever got an answer out of him I wouldnt know if it were true or not anyway. No, of course youre not, I said, and then told him that, embarrassing or not, in my opinion I ought to make this information public.
He begged me not to. He said there were tremendous security implications. I couldnt see why, if the information itself was unimportant. But Hastings said that its absolutely vital to keep it secret from our enemy that we cant keep secrets.
I shouldnt have thought that was much of a secret, I said with unanswerable logic. After all, it must have been mentioned by Burgess and Maclean and Philby and Blake and the Krogers. But it turned out that the Russians werent the enemy he had in mind. He was talking about our real enemy -- the press.
We had an internal security investigation into John Halstead in the seventies. There was a lot of media speculation. You remember?
Vaguely, I told him.
It was all terribly irresponsible and ill-informed, Geoffrey reminded me bitterly.
You mean, I asked, the press hinted that Halstead was a spy?
Yes.
But he was a spy.
Geoffrey sighed impatiently. Yes, but they didnt know that! They were being typically ignorant and irresponsible. They just happened to be accurate, thats all. Anyway, the enquiry cleared him. Completely. Clean bill of health. But they missed some rather obvious questions and checks. So obviously that, well one wonders.
This was uttered with tons of significance. He really ladled it on. What does one wonder? I wondered. I couldnt guess, so I had to ask him.
One wonders about the chaps who cleared him, whether they were you know
Stupid, you mean, I said, then suddenly realised what he was driving at. My God you mean, they could be spies too?? He nodded, and shrugged helplessly. Who headed the inquiry? I asked.
Old Lord MacIver. But he was ill most of the time.
Ill? I wanted clarification.
Well ga-ga, really. So effectively it was the Secretary who conducted it.
Who was the Secretary? I asked.
Geoffrey Hastings gave me a woebegone stare, looked around nervously, and apologetically mumbled, Sir Humphrey Appleby, Im afraid.
I wasnt sure Id heard him correctly. Humphrey?
Yes, Prime Minister.
You think he may have been spying for the Russians too?
Its a remote possibility, but very unlikely. After all, hes one of us.
So was John Halstead, I pointed out.
He couldnt deny it. Well yes. But theres no other evidence at all, not against Humphrey.
I tried to collect my thoughts. Might he have been covering up for one of us I corrected myself. One of them er, one of you?
Geoffrey thought that this was a very remote possibility. He actually believes that Humphrey is completely loyal, and that all Humphrey is guilty of is hideous incompetence.
Thats bad enough, though. After all, its a matter of the highest national security. I asked Hastings what he recommended that I should do about Humphrey.
Its up to you, Prime Minister. We still havent got through all the papers. You could set up an inquiry into Sir Humphrey.
This is a rather enjoyable prospect, I must say. But when I questioned Geoffrey closely it turned out that he didnt really recommend it. Not at this stage. Things might get out. We dont want any more irresponsible ill-informed press speculation.