The sitcom Yes, Minister and its sequel Yes, Prime Minister were beloved by audiences when they first aired, counting even Margaret Thatcher amongst its fans. When a stage adaptation found success the TV series was briefly revived in 2013 relocating the action from Whitehall to Chequers. Now, at the Barn Theatre in Cirencester, Jim Hacker and Sir Humphrey Appleby return for, what we are told, is the final chapter in I’m Sorry Prime Minister, I Can’t Quite Remember.
The setting shifts again for this new incarnation, in which we find Jim Hacker in his eighties and the Master of an Oxford College, which has been named in his honour. Living in relative comfort in the Masters Lodge and with care worker Sophie looking after him, Hacker once again finds himself at the centre of a political storm. Much like his backbenchers, the college fellows are plotting to remove him from his powerful position.
So, Hacker calls upon old friend, and sometimes adversary, Sir Humphrey Appleby to come up with a strategy to save his position. As the story unfolds, we discover not all is as it seems, and Jim has landed himself in hot water through his choice of language.
I’m Sorry Prime Minister, I Can’t Quite Remember imagines a former Prime Minister and a former head of the civil service when they no longer have any power, but the truth is they feel just as powerless as anyone who reaches their eighth or ninth decade. There are similarities as well as contrasts; Hacker wonders how on earth he can survive on a (generous) Prime Ministerial pension, and a daily tax free allowance from the House of Lords, while Humphrey who once wielded power over 3000 civil servants, now must ask a nurse to drive him anywhere he needs to go.
Writer and director Jonathan Lynn knows these characters well, and the language used, while often inappropriate, chimes with the personas of two men who once thought they knew it all, now adrift in a world they do not understand, and perhaps don’t want to understand.
There’s a little more political posturing than we had in the TV series, and the incompetence of the current government is used as the source for many of the jokes. Although it covers topics like austerity and the cost of living crisis, it feels as though Brexit is something Lynn really wants to comment on, as the conversation keeps returning there.
The witty repertoire remains, Appleby’s long meandering monologues still delighting audiences as they always have, with Clive Francis delivering the circuitous speeches with the same dead-pan delivery as previous incumbents of the role. Christopher Bianchi’s Hacker is as full of his own self importance as ever, with clever lines exposing the reality, “no, I’m not dead,” says Jim into the telephone, “I’m in the House of Lords.”
The role of Sophie takes over where Sir Bernard would once have once stood. Whether a working class, black, lesbian who had to fight for her first class honours degree would really take such pity on these two old men is up for debate, but Michaela Bennison handles the role perfectly.
I’m Sorry Prime Minister, I Can’t Quite Remember is definitely aimed at an audience that have met the characters previously, and anyone coming in cold might be at quite a loss as to what’s going on. If this really is the final chapter, then Jonathan Lynn has found the perfect way for us to say goodbye to these characters, just like the original political satire, it delights in disguising debate of thorny issues with intelligent comedy.
I’m Sorry Prime Minister, I Can’t Quite Remember is at Barn Theatre Cirencester until 4th November
