All language subtitles for S02E06 - The Patron of the Arts

Do you think perhaps...

I mean, would it have been wiser,
you know, with hindsight...

- Was it a mistake...
- Yes, Bernard?

- You didn't have to agree to present the awards.
- Bill recommended it. Didn't you?

I didn't actually recommend it.

I just said the British theatre
awards dinner was televised live

and, as guest of honour, you'd be seen by 12
million people in a context of glamour and fun

and you'd be associated with actors and
actresses who give pleasure to millions.

- That's not a recommendation?
- Isn't it a bad idea to be associated with actors?

Their job is pretending to be what they're not.
If you're seen with them, people might realise.

- Go on, Bernard.
- Well, I... I mean, er, not realise...

might suspect... might
think that you were, er...

Not that you were pretending, er...
entertaining...

- What was it you wanted to speak to Bill about?
- You said this wouldn't be controversial.

No other politicians are there. Actors and
actresses are usually nice to politicians.

They dish out flattery as
eagerly as they lap it up.

- Do they?
- Sometimes.

- What about this?
- Yes, I'm sorry.

We didn't know how small the Arts Council grant
would be when we accepted the invitation.

You knew we were being
criticised over the arts.

All governments are always criticised
for not giving enough to the arts.

It's how arts journalists
suck up to actors and producers.

That's how they get back on speaking terms
after giving bad reviews.

- And the grant was only finalised yesterday.
- Almost no increase for the National Theatre.

Its managing director will make a speech
introducing me at the dinner.

- Yes.
- Snide remarks, sarcastic jokes.

Attacking me for my meanness.
The philistine at No. 10.

Live in front of 12 million people.

Yes, but Bill didn't know.

What about when I speak? A hostile
audience. Do you think there'll be boos?

Bound to be and we don't
have to pay for it.

Not booze, Bernard, I mean boos. Boo! Ssss!

Send the Arts Minister along
instead, so they can all blame him.

That's what junior
ministers are for.

I can see the headlines. "Jim chickens out.
PM runs away from his critics."

If there was a major crisis,
you wouldn't need to go.

- Is there a major crisis coming up?
- Not really, Prime Minister.

Is there a distant crisis
that we could bring forward?

What sort of crisis would
justify cancellation?

Pound plunges, small war in the South
Atlantic, nuclear power station catches fire.

I don't think any of those things
would improve my image.

It'd justify you staying away. I know! What
about the death of a Cabinet colleague?

Ooh. Is one imminent?

Er, no, but that would justify your absence
without damaging your image.

We can hardly hope for that to fall on
the right day. Well, not by accident.

- I need help.
- You do!

- You do?
- Got to make a speech. It could be embarrassing.

Oh, Prime Minister,

your speeches are nothing like as
embarrassing as they used to be. In fact...

- Not the speech, Humphrey, the occasion.
- Ah, yes, indeed. Why?

It's to be to a hostile audience
of posturing, theatrical drunks.

- The House of Commons, you mean?
- No, Humphrey.

The annual awards dinner of the British
theatre. I'm to be their guest of honour.

You're worried that they won't honour
their guest in view of the small grant.

It's difficult to influence
the National Theatre's managing director.

- I'm on the board of governors.
- Are you indeed?

Perhaps you can tell me, how do I
make them feel that I'm one of them?

Well, surely you don't want them to see you
as a posturing, theatrical drunk.

Perhaps they do already.

It's on TV. I don't want
a hostile reception.

With respect, Prime Minister, if one
is going to walk into the lion's den,

one should not take away the lion's dinner.

- So what's your advice?
- Give them more dinner.

Increase the grant to the Arts Council.
Only two million or so.

- It'd make it a fairly expensive dinner.
- Well, it is the Grosvenor.

As a governor of that subversive body,
you have a vested interest, don't you?

- In fact, a conflict of interests.
- How so?

That bloody place puts on plays attacking me.
They set "The Comedy of Errors" in No. 10.

- Oh, Prime...
- Don't deny it. I know who they were getting at.

And a play attacked my nuclear policy.
A farce.

- The policy?
- No, Humphrey, the play.

- Why do they do it?
- Well, it's very healthy, Prime Minister.

- Healthy?
- Yes.

Practically nobody goes to political plays
and half that do don't understand them,

and half that understand them don't agree,

and the seven left would've voted
against the government anyway.

It helps people let off steam

and you are seen as a democratic statesman
for subsidising your critics.

People who want to criticise me
should pay at the box office!

Oh, Prime Minister,
they'd never make enough money.

Plays criticising the government make the
second most boring evenings ever invented.

They insult... What are the most boring?

Plays praising the government.

- They insult me and then expect more money?
- Yes, it is a rather undignified posture.

Artists always crawl towards the government
on their knees, shaking their fists.

- Beating me over the head with begging bowls.
- Sorry to be pedantic.

They can't beat you over the head if they're on
their knees unless they've got very long arms.

- Get off the floor.
- Yes, I'm sorry.

- There are no votes in giving money to the arts.
- But terrible publicity if you take it away.

The arts lobby is middle class. It's one
of the few ways they get their tax back.

Mortgage tax relief, university grants,
lump-sum pensions, Radio 3,

and subsidised seats at the theatre,
opera and concerts.

You can't begrudge it us.

Them.

People can spend their own money.

Why should government money
be spent on pleasure?

Nobody could call it pleasure. The point
is, we have a great heritage to support.

Pictures no one wants to see, music no one
wants to hear, plays no one wants to watch.

You can't let them die
just because nobody's interested.

- Why not?
- Well, it's a bit like the Church of England.

People don't go to church,
but they feel better because it's there.

The arts are just the same.

As long as they're going on,
you can feel part of a civilised nation.

There are no votes in the arts.
Nobody's interested.

Nobody's interested
in the Social Science Research Council

or the Dumping at Sea Representation Panel,
but government still pays to support them.

- They do some good.
- They don't, Prime Minister.

They hardly do anything at all.

- Well, let's abolish them!
- No, no, no, no!

They are symbols. You don't fund them for
doing work but to show what you approve of.

Most government expenditure is symbolic.
The Arts Council is a symbol.

- You're getting off the point.
- I'm sorry, Prime Minister. What was the point?

What was the point, Bernard?

Er, the point of what?

Oh, how to stop the managing director of the
National Theatre criticising you in his speech.

I suggest you have a quiet word with him.

Say the knighthood that usually goes
with the job is within the gift of the PM.

He said he couldn't care
less about a knighthood.

Huh! Everybody says that about knighthoods
until they're dangled in front of them.

Don't they, Sir Humphrey?

He talked about your putting on plays
attacking him.

Did you point out no one's ever
submitted a play defending him?

Well, I'm not sure that would've helped.

What about next year's Arts Council grant?
Will they get the extra 30 million?

My dear Simon,
I couldn't disclose the figure in advance,

least of all to the MD
of the National Theatre.

Have some of these.

Excuse me.

Only six? You're not serious?

That's the new diet.
Six breadsticks is the absolute maximum.

Is that gross breadsticks
or net breadsticks?

- Net breadsticks.
- So what'll we get at the National?

- Only one?
- Shh, shh, shh.

How can we manage
on one and half million pounds?

- I don't know where you got that figure from.
- Look, you've got to help me. What can I do?

You mean, if the grant figure,
which of course we do not yet know,

were to be not just less than you told the press
was the absolute minimum to stave off disaster

but lower than the REAL minimum required
to stave off disaster?

- Yes.
- I can't help you, even though I'm on the board.

Let me be quite clear about this, Simon.
I am here to represent the PM's interests.

There are certain things
which would gravely upset him.

I must urge you, on his behalf,
not to contemplate them.

Good. What are they?

You'll be making the speech
introducing him at the awards dinner.

It would be a courtesy to send
a draft to No. 10 in advance.

- For approval?
- Well, let's say for information.

Now, the Prime Minister
is extremely anxious

that the speech should not refer
to the modesty of the grant increase.

There are certain words
he'd like you to avoid.

Miserly... philistine...

barbarism... skinflint...

killjoy.

He'd also like you to
avoid all reference

to how much more other
countries spend on the arts.

- What are the figures?
- Here you are.

To make sure you don't
mention them by mistake.

I certainly won't mention them by mistake.

And thirdly, and most important of all,

he wants no comparison between
the extra money your theatre needs

and certain sums that the government
spent last year on certain projects.

- Such as?
- Well, let's say the figure were to be four million.

Purely as an example, of course.

The PM earnestly hopes that your speech

will not refer to the fact
that the government spent five million

on radar equipment for a fighter plane
that had already been scrapped.

Or that the Department
of Energy had been able

to stockpile a thousand years' supply
of filing tabs.

Or that another department
had stocked up with a million tins of Vim.

Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

- Thank you very much.
- Thank you so much. That was delicious.

- He never even goes to the theatre, does he?
- Well, he can't, really.

He's frightened of giving the cartoonists
and gossip columnists too much ammunition.

He couldn't go to "A Month In The Country" for
fear of starting rumours about a general election.

And he couldn't go to your production
of "The Rivals"

because so many ministers
were after his job.

He couldn't go to "The School For Scandal".

Well, not after the Education Secretary

had been found in bed with that
married primary-school headmistress.

- I see.
- And then there was that play by Ibsen.

- Oh, dear, what's it...
- "The Master Builder"?

Hardly.

I was thinking of "An Enemy Of The People".

Say no more.

Sir William and Lady Langthorne.

Mr and Mrs Simon Monk.

- No, no, it's me.
- Oh, sorry.

- I think that's the lot.
- We can stand down?

- Yes, Mrs Hacker.
- Thank goodness for that!

Nice you're taking such trouble over theatre
people, even though they're not important.

- They're extremely important.
- In what way?

Showbiz people have a hotline to the media.

If you're on "EastEnders",
the press want your opinion on everything.

- Why?
- Editors like to sell their papers.

Start an article with a picture of
Dirty Den, everybody wants to read it.

Start one with a picture of the Trade and
Industry Secretary, nobody wants to read it.

They all turn into supporters
after a few glasses of warm sherry?

Some do. That's why we dish out a couple
of OBEs and a knighthood every New Year.

Keeps them hoping. Stops them attacking the
government the next time they're on "Wogan".

Prime Minister, the Arts Minister's
rather anxious to have a word with you.

There's going to be trouble
when they find out how small the grant is.

We'll just have to brazen it out.
Won't you?

- I think we'll have to try to find a bit more.
- We've been through all this.

- The theatre brings in tourists.
- Let the Tourist Board subsidise them.

They say they've better
ways of attracting them.

We're subsidising bad ways of attracting
tourists? No, we've spent enough on the arts.

We'd have to spend it anyway. It's a
concealed way of preserving old buildings.

- How do you mean?
- All these theatres, art galleries and museums

are listed buildings we'd have to maintain,
and they're totally useless.

So we put in central heating and a caretaker to
make it look as if we're preserving the arts.

- Let's sell them.
- We can't. They're ancient monuments.

Hm, like the Cabinet.

Mind you, I'd sell THEM if I could.

Isn't it better to wait until the figure is published?
If I try to lobby him now, he won't say anything.

But you want him to DO something.

- But if I wait...
- Then the figure will be published.

Everyone will be committed to it and they'll
have to stick with it to save face.

To change government decisions, do it
before anybody knows they're being made.

- Isn't that rather difficult?
- Yes. That's what the Civil Service is for.

- To change government decisions?
- Well, only the bad ones.

That's most of them, of course.

- Do you really believe in the British theatre?
- Oh, yes, absolutely.

- Why?
- Well, it's one of the great glories of England.

- You mean Shakespeare?
- Shakespeare, yes, absolutely.

- Who else?
- Who... er...

Well... there's Shakespeare, of course,

and... er... Sheridan,
Oscar Wilde, Bernard Shaw.

- They were all Irish.
- Well, Irish, English. Same thing then, wasn't it?

- Bernard Shaw died in 1950.
- Oh, I'm so sorry.

- Do you go to the theatre a lot?
- I'd love to, but you know how it is in my job.

Shouldn't the PM go, if it's one
of the great glories of England?

- Well, the Arts Minister goes. Part of his job.
- Why?

- The PM can't do everything. Have to delegate.
- Going to the theatre is work?

Well, wouldn't like to trespass
on another minister's territory.

You can't feel ill without clearing
it with the Health Minister?

Not exactly.

- But what about when you were in opposition?
- It was much the same.

So when you say you believe in the theatre, it's
like believing in God. You believe it exists.

No, no, I'm a great supporter.

What was the last play you went to?

Last pl... er...

- I think it'd be "Hamlet".
- Whose?

Shakespeare's.

- Do you know who played Hamlet?
- Oh... er...

Henry Irving?

- Er, Sir Humphrey, could I have a word?
- Of course. Forgive me, Mrs Hacker.

Sir Humphrey,
I don't think the PM's enjoying himself.

He's not supposed to. Cocktail parties
at No. 10 are just a gruesome duty.

- People keep asking him questions.
- He should be used to that.

They weren't tabled in advance,
so he isn't briefed.

- He's not on the record.
- Yes, but people will think he's a philistine.

Good heavens!

- I was wondering, should we go and rescue him?
- All right, leave it to me.

We'll do what we can, but there are
many calls on the public purse.

- Inner cities, hospitals, kidney machines.
- Tanks.

- Rockets.
- H-bombs.

We can't defend ourselves against the
Russians with a performance of "Henry V".

Prime Minister. I'm so sorry, ladies.

- This isn't a drinks party, it's a siege.
- I was about to suggest

that you should talk to
the National Theatre's managing director.

- You want me to face another salvo?
- No.

I've tried to persuade him
to make the right sort of speech.

- Have you? Thank you very much.
- Not at all.

But you might have more success.
Simon Monk.

- Ah, Mr Monk.
- Prime Minister.

- So you're going to introduce me at this dinner?
- That's right.

Any idea what you're... going to say?

Well... um... I suppose it depends, really.

Yes, yes... On...?

- On the size of the grant, I suppose.
- Of course, that's still under discussion.

Of course, but if it were to be generous,

I could talk about the way this government
has got its priorities right,

believing in Britain's
heritage, what it stands for.

Terrific, terrific. Of
course, if I can't...

That is, if the Arts Minister
can't cough up as much as you'd hoped.

Ah, well, that would be...
rather difficult.

- You wouldn't want to make it political.
- Not for myself, of course not.

But my colleagues would expect me
to voice their feelings.

There are many calls on the public purse.
Inner cities, hospitals, kidney machines.

Yes. I thought perhaps the best way
round it would be to make it funny.

- Funny?
- Yes.

List ways the government spends the money
it can't afford for the arts.

Did you know that in one year
one London borough

spent a million on hotels for families
when it had 4,000 empty council houses?

Isn't that hilarious?

- Of course, local government.
- Yes, yes, but it is all government, isn't it?

The taxpayer pays the Rate Support Grant.

And did you know that another council spends
100 a week on a toenail-cutting administrator?

One city was employing four gas-lamp lighters
eight years after the last gas lamp was removed.

That cost a quarter of a million.
Should get a good laugh.

Not to mention the council that spent 730 pounds

having two square yards
of shrubbery weeded.

And the government office block scheduled for
demolition two weeks before it was completed.

That should go down rather well at the dinner
and make jolly good TV, don't you agree?

- So nice to meet you.
- I just hope you realise, Prime Minister,

that unless we get a substantial rise,
the National Theatre will collapse

and there'll be a huge empty building
on the South Bank,

a decaying monument
to this government's barbarism.

Where did he get those examples
of government waste?

I really can't imagine.

- The National Theatre may call my bluff.
- What is your bluff?

- That I'm willing to risk their bluff.
- What's their bluff?

- Their bluff is they think I'm bluffing, whereas...
- You are.

I don't know now.

- You mean you're playing blind man's bluff.
- May I just clarify this?

You think the National Theatre
thinks you are bluffing.

They think you think THEY are bluffing,

whereas your bluff is to make them think
you are bluffing when you're not.

If you are, your bluff is to
make them think you're not.

Their bluff must be that they're bluffing because
if they're not bluffing, they're not bluffing.

Thank you, Bernard. An
invaluable contribution.

What is your policy? Will you risk their refusing
to continue if you don't increase the grant?

I shall just have to go on re-stating
my policy, I think, until... until...

Until you know what it is.

Dorothy, you've got to help me.
This is a hot potato.

If I don't do anything,
it could turn into a banana skin.

- A hot potato can't become a banana skin.
- What?

If you don't do anything,
a hot potato just becomes a cold potato.

May I make a suggestion? I have a plan.

- A plan? Yes, good. What?
- Call their bluff.

Sell the National Theatre building. It's a prime
site. It's on the South Bank overlooking St Paul's.

- Sell it? To whom?
- To a property developer.

- We'd get 30- or 40 million for it.
- But we wouldn't have a National Theatre!

We'd have sold the
building, not the company.

The National Theatre
gets a million a year.

Nearly half goes on the
upkeep of the buildings.

That could go into productions by all the
subsidised companies all over the country.

Monk said he didn't think they ought
to have to spend their grant in that way.

He said the theatre should be about plays,
not about bricks and mortar.

- Where would they put on their plays?
- There are plenty of theatres all over the country.

- They could rent them like any other producer.
- Dorothy, this is brilliant!

The theatre's about plays and actors,
not maintaining buildings.

And it'd make the company
genuinely national.

And we could give the 3 million
to put on their productions.

The government would still make
a net profit of over 30 million!

Nobody could call me a philistine then!

Not unless they knew you.

- Prime Minister, you remember Simon Monk?
- Ah, Mr Monk, yes.

- This is very bad news about the grant.
- Surely not. It's gone up.

- Nothing like enough.
- Enough for it to be unnecessary for you to...?

- I'm afraid not.
- Oh.

I was hoping to do something
really significant next year.

You said you had to spend
nearly half your grant on upkeep.

- I have a plan to relieve you of that.
- Really? That would be marvellous.

Wouldn't it? And it'd make the
National Theatre really national.

- What do you mean?
- I'm thinking of selling the National Theatre.

- Selling it?
- I knew you'd be pleased.

- That way we can save 3 million on upkeep.
- This is impossible!

No, it's easy.
We've had a terrific offer for the site.

- The National Theatre must have a base.
- And it will.

You could have inexpensive offices
in Brixton or Toxteth... or Middlesbrough.

What about the theatres, the workshops?

You could hire them. Put on productions in the
West End or the Old Vic or provincial theatres.

Become strolling players again

- instead of... civil servants.
- But that would be disastrous!

Surely not. Didn't you say the theatre
wasn't about bricks and mortar?

Yes, yes, but that was... Look, the
National Theatre must have a home!

And so it will. Lots of homes.

All the subsidised theatres
would be called national theatres.

There'd be the National Theatre at Glasgow,
at Sheffield, at Bristol, and so on.

And that three million can help them all. You'd
be the London branch of the National Theatre.

- That'd be popular with the whole profession.
- Barbarism!

- Spending money on actors instead of buildings?
- Yes. Well, no, no...

- Um...
- Anyway, it's just one of my options.

I may decide against it... or I may not.

I could outline it in my speech...
if necessary.

- It all depends.
- On...?

Have you decided what you'll say
in your speech yet?

Yes.

Oh... er... well... not finally.

I wondered if those jokes about
government waste were really very funny.

Of course, it's your decision.

I'm sure you understand me.

Mr Prime Minister, my lords,
ladies and gentlemen,

pray silence for Simon Monk, Esquire, the
managing director of the National Theatre.

Mr Prime Minster, my lords,
ladies and gentlemen...

You will have read of the grant for the
Arts Council and the National Theatre.

I know many of us are... disappointed
by the amount.

We'd have all liked it to have been larger,
but this is a time of national stringency

and we must think in
terms of national needs.

There are many calls on the public purse.

Education, inner cities, health...
kidney machines.

We should be glad that any increase has been
possible and grateful to our guest of honour

whose personal intervention made even this
small breadstick possible... er, increase.

Ladies and gentlemen, to our guest of honour,
the patron of the arts, the Prime Minister.

- My lords, ladies and gentlemen, the toast is...
- Excellent speech, don't you think, Humphrey?

- The patron of the arts, the Prime Minister.
- Yes, Prime Minister.

The Prime Minister.