At the end of the lunch, Hacker still wasn't totally convinced but he thought he would put in a word in support. Tucker seemed reasonably happy about this. But now there was the question of the bill. The actual meal itself was no better than average and would not have had impressed any connoisseur of food. Fortunately, neither of these men were. They wouldn't know a good quality meal if it had come up and bitten them.

But the bill was an issue. The trouble was that government transparency was a hot political topic at the moment. If it was found out that an unelected advisor was buying a meal for a Minster this could be seen as unfair lobbying. On the other hand if the Minister bought the lunch, on an expense account in particular, this might be seen as a mis-use of government money. 'Perhaps we should go halves?' was Hacker's clever suggestion. The spin-doctor was happy to agree. Though the Minister of state was feeling a bit guilty about this. The most expensive item of the meal was a very pricy bottle of wine and he had drunk nearly all of it. Still, no-one expected them to analyse every item spent in an infinite manner of ways, did they?

Later, Hacker heard that Sir Humphrey had been with the PM. In his office, Hacker said, I hope you dealt with the banking sector's request for aid?' thinking this would make for a quiet ministerial life for him.

'Yes, Minister,' Hacker nodded. But unfortunately for him, Sir Humphrey hadn't been keeping up to date with recent developments. 'I got him to agree. No new spending commitments until the election. He strongly agreed. Nice for everyone to be singing from the same hymn sheet!' Sir Humphrey got up to leave.

'Excellent,' said Hacker at first, then realised with horror what Sir Humphrey had actually said. 'No, no, hold on a moment.' But it was too late. Sir Humphrey was out the door. The Minister held his head in his hands and groaned, much to Bernard's amusement. Hacker dreaded to think of what Tucker might say about the civil service going above his head on this bail-out issue. But he would soon find out.

The next morning as it happened. 9.00 am sharp. Brian had just started his early morning coffee when the door burst open with an almighty bang. In marched Tucker in a biblical rage with eyes like balls of fire. 'Fuck you all!' cried he. Everyone was in the office. Even a secretary, Mandy, was cowering at the back. Tucker marched up to Sir Humphrey and eyeballed the top civil servant. 'You, you, you. Do you know on my way here I fucking trod on something? Fucking dog-poo. On my fucking shoe. All over it. And as I looked at it with its smelly disgusting mess attracting flies, it reminded me of something. Do you know what? You, you fucking little pen-pushing little civil service cunt.'

'Now then, whatever is the issue?' asked Sir Humphrey.

'Never you mind the fucking issue,' shouted Tucker getting even angrier if possible. 'You do not, not, not go and influence the fucking PMs mind before I do. We have to go and help the fucking banking sector which is in fucking crisis. And the last thing I fucking need is the PM going on about being fucking prudent right now.'

'But I was only doing what was Government policy, being prudent.'

Tucker's eyes bulged in fury. 'Do you, or any of you civil service pen-pushing pricks, have any sense of political nuance, independent fucking thought or initiative, or are you all just a bunch of fucking cunts? These are bankers. Important people. If the banking sector gets in trouble do you have any idea of how this could affect our marginal fucking voters or the fucking political consequences? You really are a bunch of cunts, cunts! Now, pen-pushing wanker, go and tell the PM we need some credit of oh, 10 billion for a bank bail-out.' Even as a witness to Tucker's wroth, Hacker noticed that this situation was sounding more serious. The money required for the bail-out seemed to have doubled. 'I have had it up to fucking here with you lot. Now then, are you going to fucking help me for a change by persuading the PM to help the banking sector or are you just going to be a fucking cunt as usual?'

Now in another situation, Sir Humphrey might have been willing to consider this. After all, he was a bank customer himself and knew the consequences of a general banking crisis. But the way that Tucker had approached him had frankly riled him and Sir Humphrey was in no mood to appease the fellow. He wasn't part of the spin-doctor'sempire anyway. Who was Tucker to speak to him like that? 'I'm afraid that's quite impossible in this current climate, Mr Tucker,' he replied. Hacker thought he had seen Tucker angry before. He was wrong. This was rage on a different Richter scale. Tucker's forehead bulged. His eyes blared with evil, red, fire.

'WANKERS!' you're nothing but a bunch of wankers. The Civil Service are a bunch of irrelevant paper-shuffling wankers. And Cunts. The one time I fucking need you you fucking let me down. Fuck, fuck, fuck you all. That's it. I am never coming to this office again or speaking to any of you. You,' he pointed at Sir Humphrey, 'are a waste of space. And a fucker. So is what you fucking represent, your career and all of your fucking colleagues. Clear? I want nothing more to fucking to do with you ever. Fuck off.'

'Um, excuse me,' said Bernard mildly,

'Fuck you and all,' Tucker yelled and kneed the under-secretary in the groin. Then he stormed out of the office in fury, pausing only to break poor Brian's computer. 'And why don't you ever tidy your fucking desk?' Tucker yelled at the poor man. Also, on his way out he ripped off the 'Don't forget we're a team, team,' notice from the office wall.

There was a pause. 'Well I hope that fucker,' Sir Humphrey knew how to swear too, 'sticks to tryst and never does come here again.' There was a general murmur of agreement in the office.

Later that day, on the Commons lawn, Hacker met a friend of his, an American journalist, Heather who was an experienced, older, reporter. They had a mutual friendship. Heather did like to know some of the latest happenings of the British Government for her readers and it was sometimes useful for Hacker to hear an Atlantic perspective. Heather chuckled, 'You British and your cute little bail-outs. You should keep your trust in the market like us,'

Hacker coughed. Heather did have an America-knows-best attitude which could be annoying. 'What about Michigan, then?' he countered, pointing out an example of an American bail-out.

'Well, why we pay our taxes,' Heather countered totally unabashed. 'This does appear to be a big one though. £20bn I heard. I wonder if you consider this to be a prudent use of Government money? Especially as one of the banking top chief executives has had a pension of 15 million pounds?' Heather asked sweetly. Heather wasn't of any party political, persuasion, but was a moderate, average American. Which probably was a bit right-wing for her UK friends and colleagues, however. She pulled out her notebook from her smart, green dress.

'Possibly you don't quite understand the full financial implications of not doing so. But the point is moot sadly. The PM won't go for it. Not in his current frame of mind. But this has been seriously discussed. It has also caused a serious dispute between the Government advisers and the civil service who are now not talking to each other.' The Minister had just given his friend a useful exclusive and she gave him a nice smile underneath her grey hair. She did kept a note of this information which later she found of use. She also noticed that Hacker had kept quiet on the subject of the top bankers' pensions, which was wise of him.