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by-elections pending in three marginal Scottish constituencies, as a result of the death of one member who was so surprised that his constituents re-elected him in spite of his corruption and dishonesty that he had a heart attack and died, and as a result of the elevation of two other members to the Lords on the formation of the new government. [
The Peerage and/or the heart attack are, of course, the two most usual rewards for a career of corruption and dishonesty – Ed
.]
    I called Humphrey to my office. ‘The Queen,’ I announced, ‘does not have to come down from Balmoral at all.’
    There was a slight pause.
    ‘Are you proposing,’ said Sir Humphrey in a pained manner, ‘that Her Majesty and the President should exchange official greetings by telephone?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Then,’ said Sir Humphrey, even more pained, ‘perhaps you just want them to shout very loudly.’
    ‘Not that either,’ I said cheerfully. ‘We will hold the official visit in Scotland. Holyrood Palace.’
    Sir Humphrey replied instantly. ‘Out of the question,’ he said.
    ‘Humphrey,’ I said. ‘Are you sure you’ve given this idea due consideration?’
    ‘It’s not our decision,’ he replied. ‘It’s an FCO matter.’
    I was ready for this. I spent last night studying that wretched document which had caused me so much trouble yesterday. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said, and produced the file with a fine flourish. ‘Notwithstanding the provisions of subsection 3 blah blah blah . . . administrative procedures blah blah blah . . . shall fall within the purview of the Minister for Administrative Affairs.’ I sat back and watched.
    Sir Humphrey was stumped. ‘Yes, but . . . why do you want to do this?’ he asked.
    ‘It saves Her Majesty a pointless journey. And there are three marginal Scottish by-elections coming up. We’ll hold them as soon as the visit is over.’
    He suddenly went rather cool. ‘Minister, we do not hold Head of Government visits for party political reasons, but for reasons of State.’
    He had a point there. I’d slipped up a bit, but I managed to justify it okay. ‘But my plan really shows that Scotland is an equal partner in the United Kingdom. She
is
Queen of Scotland too. And Scotland is full of marginal constit . . .’ I stopped myself just in time, I think, ‘. . . depressed areas.’
    But Sir Humphrey was clearly hostile to the whole brilliant notion. ‘I hardly think, Minister,’ he sneered, clambering onto his highest horse and looking down his patrician nose at me, ‘I hardly think we can exploit our Sovereign by involving her in, if you will forgive the phrase, a squalid vote-grubbing exercise.’
    I don’t think there’s anything squalid about grubbing for votes. I’m a democrat and proud of it and that’s what democracy is all about! But I could see that I had to think up a better reason (for Civil Service consumption, at least) or else this excellent plan would be blocked somehow. So I asked Humphrey why the President of Buranda was coming to Britain.
    ‘For an exchange of views on matters of mutual interest,’ was the reply. Why does this man insist on speaking in the language of official communiqués? Or can’t he help it?
    ‘Now tell me why he’s coming,’ I asked with exaggerated patience. I was prepared to keep asking until I got the real answer.
    ‘He’s here to place a huge order with the British Government for offshore drilling equipment.’
    Perfect! I went in for the kill. ‘And where can he see all our offshore equipment? Aberdeen, Clydeside.’
    Sir Humphrey tried to argue. ‘Yes, but . . .’
    ‘How many oil rigs have you got in Haslemere, Humphrey?’ He wasn’t pleased by this question.
    ‘But the administrative problems . . .’ he began.
    I interrupted grandly: ‘Administrative problems are what this whole Department was created to solve. I’m sure you can do it, Humphrey.’
    ‘But Scotland’s so remote.’ He was whining and