The Ministry of Facts

Some hours after dawn on a winter morning a large, grand looking building in central London was awaiting it’s occupants. It sat patiently as buildings tend to do, and gradually workers started arriving. These workers were smart and purposeful, striding through the majestic lobby in their suits, some with briefcases. Soon the building was a hub of activity with suited men and women bustling all over the place, like administrative bees.

After a time a large executive looking, black car pulled up outside the building, out stepped another man in a suit. This one was tall and thin and looked perplexed. He had a kindly, permanently befuddled face and was accompanied by some other men, who looked altogether more together. Like the others, these men strode in through the open oak doors and through the lobby, which had lost none of its majesty.

These were the offices of a government ministry – the Ministry of Facts. This office was in charge of collecting and collating facts. Facts were and are a valuable commodity – a commodity which needed to be collected and collated and put into warehouses – or something. This was what the staff of the building understood of their task anyway.

The man from the car was Minister of Facts Howard Catswell. He understood his job just as well as his other staff – not very well. Nevertheless as a dedicated servant of the empire, he dutifully carried on doing his job, whatever it was. Yet he could never shake the feeling that what they were doing was either entirely the wrong thing or totally inconsequential – this is why he looked constantly pained.

“Any messages, Felicity?” He asked his secretary, upon reaching his office. Felicity Surbiton was the most diligent and informed worker in the entire office and thus had the position of least power, but her other attribute which rendered her unsuitable for a managerial position – niceness – meant she was pleasant and helpful to anyone who needed pleasantry or help.

“Just the one, Minister, Bernard wants to see you, shall I send him up?”

“Yes…yes, go on then.” Replied Howard absentmindedly.

Five minutes later Bernard Brufford, a man who, it was often joked, had beaten a walrus in a walrus lookalike contest, was harrumphing (a type of movement only used by walruses) his way into Howard’s office.

“Minister! Good morning!” Bernard roared jovially, his great, red cheeks firing out words like fleshy bellows.

“Good morning, Bernard. What did you want to see me about?”

“I’ve been given the job of introducing the new chap to our line of work, and I was wondering what you wanted me to tell him.”

“Just tell him what his job is and what we do, you know – the history of the Ministry.”

“Ah very good, yes, very good but…” He was about to ask ‘what do we do?’ but checked himself in time.

“Yes?”

“Nothing. I’ll introduce him to you later. Once I’ve shown him the ropes and all that, eh? Yes. Goodbye Minister!”

“Goodbye, Bernard.” Once the door was shut, Howard sighed heavily. Bernard was a lovely man, but pompous and blundering. Behind his back people called him Polonius after the rather bumbling character in Hamlet. The sort of criticism which would only be levelled at someone in an establishment primarily staffed by Oxbridge rejects.

Meanwhile, Bernard harrumphed down to the reception area and met the new chap. The new chap had recently been taken on to fill a place which someone had vacated. They didn’t know who had vacated it or what it was but it, apparently, needed to be filled. The new chap was called Redding Bardwick and was every bit as pompous as Bernard – they got on well.

“My name is Bernard Brufford, and you must be the new chap, eh?” Bernard guffawed needlessly.

“Yes, I am indeed – Redding Bardwick – pleased to make your acquaintance, Bernie. Can I call you Bernie?” Smarmed Redding

“No one else does, but why the hell not! Bernie it is!” Bellowed Bernard happily.

Following this exchange, Bernard and Redding spent around two hours bellowing, guffawing and sharing anecdotes about public school and polo. Once this happy time was up, Bernard ushered Redding to Howard’s office.