Yes, minister, but where is the minister?

This is taken from yesterday's Observer. It is a senior civil servant who wishes to remain anonymous. It didn't appear on their website, which would suggest that they're not entirely thrilled at the prospect of having it bandied about the Interweb. Oh well, a good article is still worth touch-typing.

It provides an interesting insight into who the British government actually works - the clash of the political will and the administrative will, or the administrative won't - as is quite often the case.

As a senior government official, I was expecting to greet my new cabinet minister last Friday and start working together. It was due to be a long, hectic weekend. Once a new cabinet is announced, there is no rest and no reflection until August. Government is in overdrive, seeking to set the agenda and capitalise on the momentum, refreshed by new faces and policies.

The civil servant's job is to hide the chaos - to present it as another smooth transition. In reality a vast nervous army awaits its new masters. Mistakes are made. People moved on. Careers broken. Departments have their names changed and responsibilities shift. However, the problems remain.

Senior civil servants have been planning the changeover for weeks. While the politicians campaigned, the bureaucrats were scouring the manifestos working out how to make them a reality.

In time for election day, each government department produces a folder of implementation papers for potential new ministers. There is one for each part, named for their colour a big detailed blue folder a shorter red folder and a very thin yellow folder. Until this morning, the blue folder was the only game in town. Each folder begins with a note from the permanent secretary of state, a document that sets out the challenges and opportunities ahead. Every one has the same message - there is very little money, even less than you thought. You will have to make some tough choices.

By Thursday evening the corridors of Whitehall were bare, posters and pictures removed, as if to cleanse the memory of the past 13 years. Departmental signage deemed too New Labour was scrapped. On Whitehall vast scaffolding was bult for TV crews to film the new prime minister arriving.

Civil servants were smarter than usual on Friday morning in anticipation of making a good impression on the new team. Gone were the usual jeans and T-shirts of dress-down Friday, replaced by crisp suits and an array of blue shirts and ties. But no one arrived.

The message come through before 10am that negotiations would start between the parties. Anything could happen. Lacking the lightening bolt of new priorities, we talked of kind, hard-working ministers who had lost their seats and less savoury individuals who had somehow avoided the axe. Ironically it won't be long before the axe is held over us. Budget cuts could mean a third of us will be gone in three years.

There was no swift, brutal exit of the sitting prime minister with sad words outside No 10. Instead, he gave his permission for the other parties to talk and went back inside to enjoy the hospitality for perhaps one last weekend. The old government is still governing. The new government is nowhere to be seen.

One thing is certain. All across Whitehall the yellow folders are being taken out of the bin and carefully read for the first time.