An anomaly in the ratings

The boss picked up the towel draped around his neck and wiped his hands, just about to reach for the remote control.

A muffled thud suddenly came from a booth in the corner.

A burly man slammed a beer mug onto the table.

The man was wearing a floral shirt with the collar open, revealing the edge of a small tattoo on his chest.

A section of my left little finger is missing.

Two young men with buzz cuts sat opposite the big man, their suits pulled tight.

Takahashi felt a chill run down his spine and immediately withdrew his hand.

When these people entered, Takahashi noticed them; they were dressed in standard Yakuza attire.

The burly man exhaled a smoke ring, stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, and stared up at the boss.

"Change the channel!" The big guy's voice was extremely deep, with a heavy Kansai.

The izakaya, where several tables of customers had been chatting, fell silent upon hearing the commotion.

The boss stopped moving, his hand frozen in mid-air, a layer of cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Takahashi quickly looked down, staring at the plate of edamame in front of him.

When faced with something like this, it's better to avoid trouble.

If the gangsters want to watch a certain channel, just switch it to them.

Even if it's a late-night adult program, the husband's family can only watch it along with them.

Yamamoto also kicked Takahashi under the table, signaling him to be quiet.

"Guest... guest, which channel would you like to watch?" the boss stammered.

The burly man rubbed his buzz cut and opened his mouth.

TV Tokyo!

Takahashi suddenly looked up, dropping the edamame beans he was holding onto the table.

He couldn't help himself and blurted it out.

"You guys watch 'Yes, Minister' too?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Takahashi regretted them and wished he could slap himself.

The big guy turned around at the sound and looked Takahashi up and down.

The two young men with buzz cuts stood up immediately, their movements perfectly synchronized, and they reached for their waists.

The big guy raised his hand and pressed it down.

The two young men immediately sat back down in their seats.

"What else should I watch in the middle of the night?" The big guy picked up the bottle and took a swig straight from it. "I get used as a chamber pot by those suit-wearing bastards at the National Police Agency during the day, and at night I can't even watch the bureaucrats make fools of themselves on TV?"

Takahashi paused for a few seconds, then burst into loud laughter.

He raised his beer mug and gave a toast to the big guy from a distance.

"Fellow travelers! Fellow travelers!"

The big guy grinned, revealing two gold teeth, and grabbed a bottle of liquor from the table, shaking it.

The boss breathed a sigh of relief, quickly grabbed the remote control, and pressed the button.

The screen flickered and switched to TV Tokyo.

It happened to be the last thirty seconds of WBS's evening news.

In the footage, a senior official from the Ministry of Finance stands in front of flashing lights, bows at a ninety-degree angle, and reads an apology statement in a somber voice, explaining where the funds for the improper hospitality went.

The next second, the screen abruptly cut off without warning.

Sir Humphrey's face, adorned with a forced smile, appeared in the center of the screen.

He spoke fluent official language.

"We didn't hide anything about that funding. We just used an atypical disclosure method."

There was a two-second silence in the izakaya.

Then, the entire audience erupted in deafening laughter.

The big guy slammed his hand on the table, making the skewers on the plate jump.

"Damn! Great editing!" The burly man pointed at the TV. "These officials are ruthless when they're taking money, but when things get out of hand, they play word games. They're even less principled than us gangsters!"

Takahashi laughed so hard he coughed, Yamamoto quickly reached out and patted him on the back.

"I went to the Ministry of Ministry of International Trade and Industry during the day, and that clerk had the same attitude!" Takahashi coughed as he pointed at the screen. "When I asked him when the approval would be processed, he told me it was in the 'actively awaiting' stage. Bullshit! They're just holding back!"

The atmosphere in the entire izakaya was completely ignited.

Several tables of guests who were originally strangers were now all brought into the same camp by this amazingly edited trailer.

The symphony theme music started playing right on time.

The second episode of "Yes, Minister" has officially premiered.

The owner gave each table a free plate of fried peanuts to go with their drinks, and then moved a small stool to sit at the bar, staring at the screen.

In this episode, Minister Hacker attempts to push through a bill to reduce redundant administrative procedures.

Sir Humphrey outwardly gave his full support, but behind the scenes he began to work with the permanent secretaries of other departments to create a series of even more complex documents and approvals, piling up the minister's desk like a mountain.

Takahashi grabbed his beer mug, not even bothering to drink it.

Seeing Humphrey deliver a three-minute-long speech that completely bewildered the minister, ultimately leading to the minister signing off on the bill himself, Takahashi slammed his fist on the edge of the table.

"Yes, yes, that's it! These bureaucrats are best at making simple things complicated!" Takahashi turned to Yamamoto, "Do you remember last year when our company applied for that environmental tax exemption? We filled out over thirty forms, got over a dozen stamps, and in the end, because we were missing one piece of documentation, we had to start all over again!"

Yamamoto nodded in agreement and tore open a pack of tissues to wipe his hands.

"How could I not remember? In the end, our president still had to go out for drinks and entertainment with a section chief from the Ministry of International Trade and Industry, spending several million Japanese yen to get the approval. These people, they don't do their jobs, they just rack their brains over this kind of thing."

Hearing this, the burly man in the next booth turned around and put his hand on the back of his chair.

"What's this?" The burly man spat on the ground. "Last month, the Metropolitan Police Department insisted that our place didn't meet fire safety standards and shut it down. Our boss sent them a hefty bribe, and guess what they said?"

Takahashi and Yamamoto both pricked up their ears.

"They said that in order to ensure public safety, we need to conduct a comprehensive, multi-dimensional assessment of the rectification measures, but there is no clear timetable at present." The big guy imitated Humphrey's affected tone quite well.

Takahashi couldn't hold back any longer and laughed until tears streamed down his face.

"Isn't that Humphrey's line?!"

"Exactly!" The burly man ripped open his collar and pointed at the TV screen. "I saw the trailer for this show earlier today, and that line immediately came to mind. These guys in uniforms, all they talk about is public safety, but they're just underpaid. Watching this on TV now is fucking satisfying!"

The burly man waved his hand and winked at his underlings opposite him.

A young man with a buzz cut immediately stood up, took four large bottles of Sapporo Beer from the freezer, walked to Takahashi and his group's table, and opened the bottles with a few bangs, placing them on the table.

"Our boss paid for it," the younger brother said expressionlessly, then turned and walked back to his seat.

Takahashi quickly picked up his glass and raised it high towards the big guy.

"Thank you, Brother Watanabe!" Takahashi heard the two underlings call him Watanabe when he entered.

Watanabe raised the bottle in his hand and gestured towards the air.

"Let's do it! For this shitty world!"

"Done!"

The other people in the izakaya also raised their glasses.

For a moment, the sounds of clinking glasses, the rough laughter and curses of men, and the comical dialogues of the United Kingdom politicians on television mingled together, turning this izakaya of less than forty square meters into a temporary little haven.

There are no classes, no identities.

People from different industries and companies are mixed together. They are all marginalized figures who are usually squeezed to the point of exhaustion by bureaucrats and the system, and are treated as dumping grounds.

They wouldn't exchange business cards with casual acquaintances; instead, they used the absurd comedies on television to vent their pent-up resentment that they wouldn't normally dare to express.

Being able to release stress like this before bed is incredibly satisfying.

The second episode ended quickly.

As the end credits rolled, several advertisements for legal consulting and financial optimization services targeting small and medium-sized enterprises appeared on the television screen.

Takahashi stared at one of the advertisements, which advertised "quickly resolving corporate tax bad debts," for a while. Then, he took out a pen from his pocket and wrote down the phone number at the bottom of the screen on a tissue.

"Why are you writing this down?" Yamamoto leaned closer to look.

Takahashi folded the tissue neatly and put it in his shirt pocket.

"Give them a call tomorrow morning. If we can get them to handle our company's tax evasion issue, I won't have to go to the Ministry of International Trade and Industry) to see those people's cold faces anymore. It's all about spending money, and having to pay those bastards at Ministry of International Trade and Industry while having to put on a smiling face is nowhere near as enjoyable as this."

Watanabe had already stood up and put on a black leather jacket.

"Boss, the bill!" Watanabe pulled out several ten-thousand-yuan bills from his pocket and slapped them on the bar.

"Take care, Watanabe -san," Takahashi greeted him.

Watanabe turned around, zipped up his jacket, and pointed to the television on the wall.

"Will this show still air tomorrow night?"

"It airs every day," Takahashi replied.

"Alright." Watanabe nodded, leading his two henchmen out. "I'll be back tomorrow night at 11:30. Keep this TV for me!"

Takahashi watched Watanabe push open the glass door, then turned and exchanged a glance with Yamamoto.

The two picked up the remaining beer in front of them, clinked glasses, and downed their drinks.

I'll come here again tomorrow night.

TV Tokyo, Director's Office.

Sato presented the latest viewership chart to Nakagawa Jun.

The lines on the chart are flat, almost a straight line compared to the trend of the previous few days.

"Director, the growth rate has stalled these past few days." Sato's tone was somewhat impatient, and he tapped his finger on the chart. "When ' The Silver Tycoon ' aired its fourth episode, the ratings had already climbed quite significantly. But 'Yes, Minister' has stagnated."

Nakagawa Jun picked up his black coffee, took a sip, and remained silent.

Sato continued to report on the situation.

"Is the subject matter too hardcore, deterring some casual viewers who just wanted a lighthearted experience? The plot is moving very fast now; without some basic political and administrative knowledge, you simply can't understand Humphrey's Taiwan lines."

Nakagawa Jun put the cup down.

How has the feedback been from the hotline center?

Sato immediately opened another folder, his expression one of utter astonishment.

"That's what I can't understand the most," Sato said, his brow furrowed. "While the ratings have stagnated, the feedback from the hotline has been consistently excellent. The enthusiasm from viewers is higher than that of ' The Greed of Man ' and ' The Silver Tycoon ' combined. At the peak, the operators didn't even have time to go to the restroom."

Nakagawa Jun leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers twice on the table.

"Where's the letter?"

"The post office just delivered a big bag this morning, full of discussions about the plot. Some complained about the inaction of the Ministry of International Trade and Industry in reality, some cursed the bureaucrats of the Ministry of Finance. There were even a few people claiming to be low-level civil servants who wrote anonymous letters confirming that the situation in the drama was exactly the same as their unit." Sato became more and more puzzled as he spoke.

The feedback was so enthusiastic, yet the data was rather unremarkable.

This is an almost impossible inversion in the television industry.

Nakagawa Jun reached out and took the viewership chart, examined it carefully, and frowned slightly.

Japan's current viewership ratings are collected by recording devices installed on television sets in sampled households.

Given the overwhelming response, there's no reason why we shouldn't be able to capture new viewing terminals.

It's 11:30 PM.

Kobayashi, a day shift editor at the station, dragged her tired steps out of the headquarters building.

He worked three extra hours today, and all he wants now is to find a place to eat a bowl of ramen to fill his stomach and have a cold beer.

Having navigated the two streets with practiced ease, Kobayashi pushed open the wooden door of a izakaya he frequented.

At this time of day, there are usually only three or four tables of customers sitting in the izakaya, ready to leave.

Tonight is completely different.

The entire izakaya was packed, with not a single stool left at the counter.

Dozens of men in suits with loosened ties were crammed together.

The air was filled with the smoky smell of grilled skewers, the pungent smell of cheap tobacco, and the strong aroma of beer.

Kobayashi stood frozen at the door, thinking she had gone to the wrong place.

"Boss, why are there so many people today?" Kobayashi finally found an extra seat in the corner and called out to the boss.

The owner squeezed out from behind the bar carrying two pitchers of beer, placed them on the table next to him, and casually wiped away his sweat.

"They were all booked by the big shots over there," the shopkeeper said, pointing to the television in the corner.

Kobayashi looked up.

The screen switched to a TV Tokyo channel.

The symphony theme music started playing right on time.

The previously noisy izakaya instantly became much quieter.

Only the occasional clinking of glasses remained.

Everyone's face was turned towards the television.

"Yes, Minister" premieres.

When Humphrey once again bewildered Hacker Hack with a perfectly crafted set of official documents, deafening laughter and shouts erupted in the izakaya.

"Damn it! This bastard's playing dumb again!"

"Just like my section chief! All he does is pass the buck!"

Cheers! A toast to that old fox Humphrey!

The men clinked their glasses together, spilling beer foam all over the table.

Kobayashi held the ramen that the boss had just delivered, forgetting to touch his chopsticks.

Having worked in the television industry for several years, I've seen plenty of high-rated dramas, but this is the first time I've ever seen dozens of grown men gathered in an izakaya, cheering like they're watching a football match over a political comedy.

"Boss, has it been like this every day lately?" Kobayashi asked in a low voice.

The boss nodded, beaming from ear to ear.

"Starting the day before yesterday, this group of people would show up promptly at 11 o'clock every day. They would order a few bottles of wine and a plate of edamame, and they could sit there until 12:30."

These people are usually frustrated during the day, and watching this show alone at home isn't enough to make them feel good. They have to come out and vent their frustrations together with everyone else.

"Thanks to this TV series, my business has improved a lot."