pondered this possibility for some moments in silence. 'Could it really have been Teddy?' he mused. 'Et tu, Brute! Could that really be, Francis? He was never my greatest supporter - we're from different generations - but I made him one of the team. Now surely not this?'
Urquhart was delighted at the effect his words were having on his battered leader, who sat grey and tired in his chair, staring ahead, lost in surmise and suspicion.
‘P erhaps I have relied on him too much recently. I thought he had no axe to grind, no real ambition in the House of Lords. One of the loyal old guard. Was I wrong, Francis?'
‘ I simply don't know. You asked me to speculate. I can do no more at this stage.'
'Make sure, Franci s. I want him, whoever he is.'
With that the Prime Minister announced open season, and Urquhart felt himself back on the heather moors of his childhood, gun in hand, waiting for the bucks to appear.
FRIDAY 16 th JULY -THURSDAY 22 nd JULY
The life of the House of Commons is arduous and little appreciated. Long hours, heavy workloads, too much entertaining and too little respite ensure that the long summer break beckons to all Members like an oasis in a desert. As they approach closer to the oasis during the dog days of July, their thirst and their irritability increase, particularly after the exhaustion of an early summer election campaign.
During the next couple of weeks, Urquhart was prominent in moving steadily around the corridors and bars of the House, trying to bolster morale and calm the doubts of many Government backbenchers about Collingridge's increasingly scratchy performance. Morale is easier to shatter than to rebuild, and some old hands thought that Urquhart was trying perhaps a little too hard, his high profile serving to remind many that the Prime Minister was in especial need of support at a time when he should have been dominating events. But if it were a fault, it was one they recognised as aggressive loyalty in the Chief Whip. In any event, the end of the Session was only a week hence and the grapes of the South of France would soon be washing away much of the parliamentary cares.
It was because of this safety valve of August that Governments have developed the knack of making difficult announcements on the last day of the Session by means of Written Answers published in Hansard, the voluminous official report of parliamentary proceedings. Statements of Government intent can be placed openly and clearly on the public record, but at a time when most Members are packing up their desks rather than poring over the endless pages of Hansard, and when in any event there is little time or opportunity to make a fuss. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth - so long as you read the fine print.
Which is why it was most unfortunate that a photocopy of a draft Written Answer from the Secretary of State for Defence informing the House of substantial cuts in the Territorial Army on the grounds that they were increasingly less relevant in the nuclear era should have been found, a full ten days before it was due to be published, lying under a chair in Annie's Bar where Members and journalists congregate to exchange views and gossip. It was still more unfortunate that it was found by the lobby correspondent of the Independent, because everybody liked and respected him, and he knew how to check the story out. When the story was reported as the lead item in the Independent four days later at the start of the final full week of the Parliamentary Session, people knew that it was reliable.
Stories of 'cuts' are nothing new for Governments to deal with. If they maintain spending at existing levels while new and inevitably more expensive techniques for performing the task are discovered, they are accused of 'cuts'. If they increase expenditure in vital areas, but not as much as the self-appointed 'experts' require, they are still accused of 'cuts'. If they shift resources from one area to another, once
Urquhart was delighted at the effect his words were having on his battered leader, who sat grey and tired in his chair, staring ahead, lost in surmise and suspicion.
‘P erhaps I have relied on him too much recently. I thought he had no axe to grind, no real ambition in the House of Lords. One of the loyal old guard. Was I wrong, Francis?'
‘ I simply don't know. You asked me to speculate. I can do no more at this stage.'
'Make sure, Franci s. I want him, whoever he is.'
With that the Prime Minister announced open season, and Urquhart felt himself back on the heather moors of his childhood, gun in hand, waiting for the bucks to appear.
FRIDAY 16 th JULY -THURSDAY 22 nd JULY
The life of the House of Commons is arduous and little appreciated. Long hours, heavy workloads, too much entertaining and too little respite ensure that the long summer break beckons to all Members like an oasis in a desert. As they approach closer to the oasis during the dog days of July, their thirst and their irritability increase, particularly after the exhaustion of an early summer election campaign.
During the next couple of weeks, Urquhart was prominent in moving steadily around the corridors and bars of the House, trying to bolster morale and calm the doubts of many Government backbenchers about Collingridge's increasingly scratchy performance. Morale is easier to shatter than to rebuild, and some old hands thought that Urquhart was trying perhaps a little too hard, his high profile serving to remind many that the Prime Minister was in especial need of support at a time when he should have been dominating events. But if it were a fault, it was one they recognised as aggressive loyalty in the Chief Whip. In any event, the end of the Session was only a week hence and the grapes of the South of France would soon be washing away much of the parliamentary cares.
It was because of this safety valve of August that Governments have developed the knack of making difficult announcements on the last day of the Session by means of Written Answers published in Hansard, the voluminous official report of parliamentary proceedings. Statements of Government intent can be placed openly and clearly on the public record, but at a time when most Members are packing up their desks rather than poring over the endless pages of Hansard, and when in any event there is little time or opportunity to make a fuss. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth - so long as you read the fine print.
Which is why it was most unfortunate that a photocopy of a draft Written Answer from the Secretary of State for Defence informing the House of substantial cuts in the Territorial Army on the grounds that they were increasingly less relevant in the nuclear era should have been found, a full ten days before it was due to be published, lying under a chair in Annie's Bar where Members and journalists congregate to exchange views and gossip. It was still more unfortunate that it was found by the lobby correspondent of the Independent, because everybody liked and respected him, and he knew how to check the story out. When the story was reported as the lead item in the Independent four days later at the start of the final full week of the Parliamentary Session, people knew that it was reliable.
Stories of 'cuts' are nothing new for Governments to deal with. If they maintain spending at existing levels while new and inevitably more expensive techniques for performing the task are discovered, they are accused of 'cuts'. If they increase expenditure in vital areas, but not as much as the self-appointed 'experts' require, they are still accused of 'cuts'. If they shift resources from one area to another, once
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