Yes, I agreed. I feel we need someone really intelligent. Upright. Energetic.
Desmond looked nervous. Well, hold on!
You dont agree? I asked.
He weighed up the question with care. Well, of course its a jolly interesting idea, Prime Minister. But Im not sure the chaps would trust that sort of chap.
Dorothy intervened. I think the Prime Minister is worried about financial scandals. Are you worried about financial scandals, Sir Desmond?
Yes, well, of course we dont want any of those. But if you go for the sort of chap the chaps trust, you can trust him to be the sort of chap to see the chaps dont get involved in any scandals.
You mean hell hush them up? Dorothy could never resist a provocative question.
Desmond was shocked. Good Lord, no! Any hint of suspicion and you hold a full inquiry. Have the chap straight up for lunch. Ask him straight out if theres anything in it.
And if he says no? I asked.
Well, youve got to trust a chaps word. Thats how the City works.
Perhaps thats how it doesnt work. Moving on, I questioned him about Phillips Berenson. What do you know about it? I asked him.
What do you know about it? he countered, cautiously.
Only what I read in the papers, I replied.
Oh. Good. He seemed highly relieved. Well, theyre in a bit of trouble, thats all. Lent a bit of money to the wrong chaps. Could happen to anyone.
Nothing more?
Not as far as I know, he said carefully.
Dorothy was not satisfied. Youd give your word on that?
Desmond hesitated. His word was important to him. City gents as thick-headed as Desmond know that their reputation for honesty is not to be trifled with -- what else have they got? Ill look into it for you, if you like.
Dorothy, a real terrier, just wouldnt let go. You havent heard any rumours?
Of course theres always rumours, he replied, relaxing visibly. That was a full toss and thoroughly deserved to be hit straight to the boundary.
Rumours, repeated Dorothy. Of embezzlement. Bribery. Misappropriation of funds. Insider trading.
Desmond tried to take the heat out of it. He smiled amicably. Come, come, dear lady, those are strong words.
Dorothy was immune to his charm. So its not true?
There are different ways of looking at things, he replied, with a total honesty wholly unconnected to the question hed been asked.
Dorothy was curious. Whats a different way of looking at embezzlement?
Well, of course, if a chap embezzles you have to do something about it.
Have a serious word with him? I enquired ironically.
Desmond doesnt fully appreciate irony. Absolutely, he replied. But usually its just a chap who gave himself a short-term unauthorised temporary loan from the companys account, and invested it unluckily. You know, horse falls at the first fence. That sort of thing.
I could see that we were getting nowhere. Obviously Dorothy had been right. Glazebrook did not want me to appoint Jameson. So I asked him who he thought should be the Governor.
Well, Prime Minister, as I say, its not easy. Not all that many chaps the chaps trust. I mean, its not for me to say, but if one were to be asked, assuming one were thought to be of course one is committed to ones current job, but if one were to be pressed I dare say one could make oneself available as a duty one owes to, er the nation
I suddenly realised what he was driving at, and cut through the flannel. I was thinking of Alexander Jameson.
Ah, he said, deflated. How could he even think that he could be Governor. Im certainly amazed by the apparently limitless capacity for self-deception that I find in others. [But never, apparently, in himself Ed.]
What are your views on him? I asked.
Desmond damned him with faint praise. Hes a good accountant.
Honest?
Yes.
Energetic?
Im afraid so.
So youd recommend him?
No. Desmond was unequivocal. Not surprising -- anybody that interprets the word energetic as a criticism would hardly be on Jamesons side. Citys a funny place, Prime Minister. You know, if you spill the beans you open up a whole can of worms. I mean, how can you let sleeping dogs lie if you let the cat out of the bag? You bring in a new broom and if youre not very careful you find youve thrown the baby out with the bathwater. Change horses in the middle of the stream, next thing you know youre up the creek without a paddle.
And then what happens? I asked.
Well! Obviously the balloon goes up. They hit you for six. An own goal, in fact.
I got the message. Leave things as they are. Laissez-faire. Humphrey was nodding in agreement, with feigned admiration, as he sat at the feet of this latter-day Adam Smith.
[Modern readers may wonder why Sir Desmond Glazebrook wanted to be the Governor of the Bank of England, having already reached the dizzy heights of Chairman of Bartletts Bank. In fact the Governor, though less well paid, was viewed as the top job in the City, with the highest status, influence, trappings and even a little real power. There is something romantic, mysterious, and above all secret that creates the traditional allure of Threadneedle Street. Furthermore, the Governorship of the Bank can be seen as service to the nation, not merely as enriching oneself further, thus firmly establishing oneself on the list of the Great and the Good to whom further honours, quangos, Royal Commissions and fact-finding missions to sunny climes will be offered upon eventual retirement Ed.]
October 24th
This evening I sat in my dressing-room at the Winter Gardens, Blackpool. There was a tatty, grimy old silver star on the door. I didnt feel like a star. I didnt even feel like a sheriff. I felt full of despair.
My walk along the cold and windy sea-front, accompanied by what seemed to be the entire Lancashire constabulary who were clearly out to impress me with their security arrangements, had been wet and bleak. Id met no one except several dozen cameramen and reporters, all of whom asked me what I was going to say in my speech.
Of course they didnt seriously expect an answer. What worried me was fear that they already knew that I had nothing to say. For, only half an hour before I went on, I was leafing disconsolately through the dog-eared script on my dressing-table and realising -- as if I didnt know already -- that the speech was completely devoid of content.
Of course, that would have made little difference to the reception. Id have got a standing ovation no matter what! Three and a half minutes. Thats if they didnt like the speech. Dorothy had made that the minimum; my late unlamented predecessor got three minutes last year so come what may it was to be an extra thirty seconds. All the key people had been issued with stop-watches this morning.
But everyone knew that the ovation was mere window dressing. They would only show a few seconds of that on the news. Theyd also show some of my empty phrases, some scattered and half-hearted applause, and then the Political Correspondent would come on and point out that Id had no good news to offer the party or the country.
Hopelessly I picked up the pencil and stared at the speech once again. I need to say something positive, I said to Dorothy, as make-up was smeared over the bags under my eyes by a pretty girl from our TV consultants.
She leafed through the pages. Nothing came to her mind either, I could tell. With the economy in the state its in, its the best we can say, she answered. Unless you want to say the tide is turning?
Theres no evidence, I complained.
We dont need evidence -- it's a party conference not the Old Bailey. You just need conviction.
Gloomily I thought that a conviction was what Id get at the Old Bailey. And my profound melancholy was not lightened when Bernard stuck his head round the door of the dressing-room.
Prime Minister Sir Humphreys downstairs with the Burandan High Commissioner. Can they have a word with you?
I couldnt imagine what about, but I could see no harm in it. While we waited Dorothy said, Unemployment is terrible, interest rates are too high, theres not enough investment. What do we do?