Closing Doors: The Life and Death of Tony Hancock By Bobby Stevenson

STRONG LANGUAGE: THIS IS A SHORT EXCERPT FROM A SCREENPLAY

“ONE BY ONE HE SHUT THE DOOR ON ALL THE PEOPLE HE KNEW, THEN
HE SHUT THE DOOR ON HIMSELF.”

SPIKE MILLIGAN ON TONY HANCOCK

This is just the first few pages of an early script about the last days of Tony Hancock  (British Comedian)

Tony went to Australia to attempt to revive his Television career but without the support of his writers and pals (all of whom he dumped), the revival failed and he took his own life at the age of 44 in the basement of his producer’s house.

This is an excerpt from Wikipedia:

Hancock died by suicide, by overdose, in Sydney, on 24 June 1968. He was found dead in his Bellevue Hill apartment with an empty vodka bottle by his right hand and amphetamines by his left.

In one of his suicide notes he wrote: “Things just seemed to go too wrong too many times”.

BLACK SCREEN

TITLES:
“ONE BY ONE HE SHUT THE DOOR ON ALL THE PEOPLE HE KNEW, THEN
HE SHUT THE DOOR ON HIMSELF.”
SPIKE MILLIGAN ON TONY HANCOCK

BLACK SCREEN
DIRECTOR (V.O.)
Okay Tony, can we take that line
again?

HANCOCK (V.O.)
“Oh no, I’ve got the giraffe again,
I’ve got three of these, why can’t
I get the packet with the
hippopotamus?”

Silence.

HANCOCK (V.O.) (CONT’D)
Does that sound funny to you? It
doesn’t sound funny to me.

BELL RINGS.

DIRECTOR (V.O.)
Take twenty everyone, there is some
noise on the tape.

TITLES: “June 1968, ATN-7 Studios, Sydney, Australia.”

FADE IN:

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY

TONY HANCOCK, forty four going on sixty.
Tony is walking towards his trailer. His PA hands him a cup
and his PRODUCER walks beside him.

HANCOCK
Well?

PRODUCER
What Tony?

HANCOCK
Does it sound funny? These are no
Galton and Simpson.

PRODUCER
Give them a chance.

HANCOCK
Give them a chance? Give them a
chance? Listen matey, I’m out of
chances. Me.

The producer places his hand on Hancock’s shoulder. Hancock
stops and kills the moment with a look.
The producer’s hand retreats.
Hancock continues walking but the producer stays where he is;
he knows better.
Hancock enters his trailer.
SLAM….a closing door.

INT. TRAILER – DAY
Hancock, life-tired, sits staring into an unforgiving mirror.
He opens a Qantas Airline Bag or should that be
pharmaceutical central?
Some tablets are placed on the table, a bottle of vodka is
retrieved from under the table – it’s been taped there – and
is poured into Hancock’s cup.
He swallows the lot.

KNOCK.

HANCOCK
What?

PA (O.S.)
It’s me.

HANCOCK
Wait.

The airline bag is closed and the bottle taped back under the
table.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Enter.

PA
It’s the sound men; it was a bird
they picked up on the tape.

HANCOCK
So?

PA
Well they’re trying to shoot it out
of its hiding place using a
catapult and some moth balls.

HANCOCK
You couldn’t make this stuff up and
unfortunately neither can my
writers.

PA
It’s just….

HANCOCK
…it’s just what?

The PA turns towards the door and there are some fans waiting
to talk to Hancock.

Hancock gets up and goes over to the door.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Fuck off.

He slams the door shut and then approaches the PA. Their
faces are an inch apart.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
What do you think I am? A tin of
beans.

The PA slides away and out the door.

INT. HOTEL ROOM – NIGHT
A TELEVISION is on.
The room is empty and someone is showering in the bathroom.
We will find out that this is Hancock.
On the television is an interview with Hancock and John
Freeman.

TELEVISION HANCOCK
“It’s partly true that I’m a lonely
person. There are times when you’re
desperately lonely, standing in the
wings, at say, the Palladium….”

Going around the room we see the items that reflect his life
at the moment.

TELEVISION HANCOCK (CONT’D)
“….You’re out there alone. To be
shot at, shouted at, booed, have
rivets thrown at you (which I’ve
had) and seven pence ha’penny
thrown at me at Bristol – which I
picked up carefully off the stage
and bought myself a half of
bitter…”

A script lying open on the bed.

TELEVISION HANCOCK (CONT’D)
“How do you make comedy? You don’t
make it with measured ingredients -
it’s not cake. You make comedy with
feeling…..”

The Qantas bag on the bedside table.

TELEVISION HANCOCK (CONT’D)
“What I play on television is an
extension of myself and the
idiosyncrasies of other people
combined…”

Two bottles of brandy and a bottle of vodka.

TELEVISION HANCOCK
“You are, after all involved in
life, and you do certain stupid
things yourself. So if you are
going to stand there and throw
stones, at what point of perfection
do you stand? If one is going to be
critical without any chance of
comeback, it’s like hitting a
child”.

A HAND turns off the television. It’s Hancock’s. He slumps on
the bed in a towel , pours a vodka into a glass and smiles to
himself.
He picks up the ‘phone.

HANCOCK
Get me Mrs Sennett in Bournemouth,
England. (Pause) That’s right, my
Mum.

While he waits, he picks up a couple of tablets from the
bedside table.
He washes them down with vodka.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Mum. Guess who?

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY
PEOPLE doing things. Carrying cables, scenery. People
painting.
The PA exits from Hancock’s trailer.

PRODUCER
How is he?

The PA crosses his fingers and moves on.

PRODUCER (CONT’D)
Come on now people. We have a show
to put on.

The producer spots some of the team, watching.

PRODUCER (CONT’D)
I thought it was your day off?

STAGE HAND
Tony Hancock is in town.

PRODUCER
Hope he’s worth it.

The producer claps his hands.

PRODUCER (CONT’D)
Move. Someone get Tony. You.

A YOUNG GIRL is selected.
She nervously goes over to the trailer and knocks the door.
There is no response. She knocks again.

PRODUCER (CONT’D)
Just leave it. I’ll get him.

The girl runs off.
The producer loudly knocks the trailer door.

PRODUCER (CONT’D)
(shouting)
Coming in.

INT. TRAILER – DAY
The producer enters.
Tony is somewhere between Sydney and the moon.

PRODUCER
For fuck sake, what did you take?

HANCOCK
(slurred)
You know….what Sid said about me?
He said….what was I talking
about? Oh yes, Sid. He said….that
I have the best timing in the
business. The best.

Hancock is not in charge of moving his head; it has its own
life.

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY
There are many EXPECTANT FACES as Hancock and the producer
emerge. However this turns to disappointment as the producer
supports Hancock from the trailer. He carries him to the set.

PRODUCER
Come on people. We have episode six
to put in the can.

The enthusiasm has eroded in the studio, everyone is going
through the motions.

STUDIO LATER
Hancock stands ready, however his face shows that although
the light may be on, nobody is home.

DIRECTOR
All you have to do is pick up the
‘phone.

Hancock nods like a drunk.

DIRECTOR (CONT’D)
And action.

Hancock lifts the receiver, dials very badly then ‘speaks in
tongues’ into the phone.

DIRECTOR (CONT’D)
Cut. That’s the sixteenth take and
that bastard is incapable of saying
a line.

Hancock stands lost and sweating from head to foot.

DIRECTOR (CONT’D)
Hancock, you c*nt. Get out there
and act.

Hancock is in turmoil. He is practising ‘Chinese burns’ on
his wrists.

DIRECTOR (CONT’D)
(to producer)
Are you going to fucking call
someone?

The producer nods. A PA hands him a phone.

PRODUCER
(into phone)
Get me the Managing Director.

INT. HOTEL ROOM – DAY
This is another time and another place. Hancock is shaved,
dressed and sober.
He sits reading the paper and drinking coffee.
A KNOCK at the door.

HANCOCK
(with gusto)
Enter.

The producer enters.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Coffee?

PRODUCER
Please.

The producer sits as he pours him a cup.

HANCOCK
So, did you see yesterday’s rushes?

PRODUCER
Ehm…no, not yet.

HANCOCK
Well, we can look at them today.
I thought yesterday went well.

These two guys are remembering different days.

PRODUCER
If you say so.

HANCOCK
Of course, I say so.

Hancock gets up.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Well, come on. Let’s get a move on.

Hancock is already out the door.

HANCOCK (O.S.) (CONT’D)
Come on.

INT. CAR – DAY
The producer looks at Hancock, not sure who is riding in his
car.
Hancock is happy and smoking.

HANCOCK
I’ve got to get me Mum something.

Silence.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
I hear the contract is for 26
shows. I was thinking I might do it
in three batches and head home. See
Mum and Joan. What do you think?

Silence.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Have I upset you?

PRODUCER
No. The Managing Director wants to
speak to you when we get in.

HANCOCK
Any idea, about what?

The producer looks at Hancock. Then shakes his head.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Can’t be too serious then.

There is a look on Hancock’s face as if he may know what the
talk is about.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
We could always take the whole
thing back to England.

PRODUCER
If you don’t do it here, it’s all
over. If you fuck up in Australia,
there’s no where else to go.

The car pulls into the studio gate.

INT. PRODUCER’S HOTEL ROOM – NIGHT
The producer sits going through some paper work.

The phone RINGS.

PRODUCER
Hello.

HANCOCK (V.O.)
Evening.

PRODUCER
Tony.

HANCOCK (V.O.)
I’ve decided. I’m going to take the
cure.

PRODUCER
Where are you?

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM – NIGHT
Hancock sits in a hospital gown.

HANCOCK
Cavell House Private Hospital at
Rose Bay. That bastard said it was
this or the first bloody ‘plane
back to Blighty

...........to be continued

We Need Your Heart To Sing Its Song By Bobby Stevenson

Don’t cry too long

My little one

The world is waiting on your smile

Don’t listen to the midnight whispers

It is their way

To make things dark

Don’t feel

That other hearts are hardened

Sometimes they need

To take a rest

Don’t wish that you were someone

Other

This life is only meant to test.

Don’t think

That you are somehow chosen

For all the trials in the world

Don’t cry too long

My little urchin

We need your heart to sing

Its song.

I Know Nothing By Bobby Stevenson

I know nothing of the rules you use, 
Or the gods,
Or stars you live by
All I know is how I’ve done,
How I’ve kept,

My peace within,

I’ve never been the best of men,
And many times I’ve failed in all I was.

But on some quiet smiling day,

I’ve tried to help,

And telling no one,

Leave something,

Better than it’s found.

I know nothing of the buildings that you pray in,

Or the books you live through,

All I know is I try to be kind

To be decent, to understand,

To care.

Sometimes that is not enough,

I know.

But I’ll never stop trying.

If All of This Were Up to Me By Bobby Stevenson

If all of this were up to me,

My gifts would be of other things,

The son to spend an afternoon

With a father long since gone,

The granddad seeing his offspring grow,

As his life goes on and on,

The children gone before their time,

Would come back home and ring the chime,

And chances lost would be our choice,

To try just one more time,

The girl whose births would fill a home,

A brother not a day alone,

The friend who’d never know the pain,

Of all that cancer brings,

If all of this were up to me,

Then these would be my things.

Lanterns By Bobby Stevenson

for fiona :-)

Don’t think that all of this will last,

When the darkness wears your heart away,

One day,

Someday,

When you least expect it,

The lanterns,

Will bring the light to stay.

Don’t cry at the moon when no one sees you,

For all of us are made to pay,

One day,

Someday,

When your hope is dying,

The lanterns,

Will light another way.

Tonight By Bobby Stevenson

Tonight I saw a solar storm,

Which brought the heavens to its knees,

And seared the eyes and hearts of those who watched.

I tasted nectar and ambrosia.

And sat with kings and gods,

And talked of words with Shakespeare.

Tonight I flew with Orville Wright,

And gasped,

As air beneath us passed.

Then ran across the Milky Way,

And shouted at the stars.

Tonight, I fought my enemy,

At the battle of the Somme,

And wept where comrades fell

Somewhere beyond the poppy fields.

Tonight I sat with Einstein,

And over tea,

We talked of time and space,

Then he smiled and laughed with me.

Tonight I tasted life and cried

And swept the universe entire,

Which sat inside my head

And you ask me why

I write.

Honey on the Thorn by Bobby Stevenson

As you reach out,

You’re already asking yourself if it’s all

Too far,

And as your tongue stretches to taste the honey,

You know that the searing pain will follow,

Cutting deeper than your heart can take ,

But who amongst us,

Can resist? 

And as the blood drips from the wound,

And you slam your eyes tightly,

Tightly shut,

Promising yourself it’s for the very last time,

Even then,

Even in that brief whisper of time,

When it's not too late to turn and run,

Even then,

Your very bones are craving for just one more taste

Of honey on the thorn.

Still by Bobby Stevenson

I

Still love you

Though

It’s been a

Long time, it’s been a

Lifetime of

Living without you.

Our secret moments scar the

Visions I have of anyone

Else.

You were everything –  a

Once chance meeting in this lonely

Universe.

Main Street by Bobby Stevenson

The warm air blows off the panhandle for the second time that week,

As the old wooden chair on grandfather’s porch

Creaks its way to salvation.

And Brittle Andrew howls his madness and  frustrations into the wind

But there ain’t no one listening, not even God.

He’s left these parts a while back.

Somewhere out there in the Mississippi, an alligator,

With wasted stealth, sits waiting on its prey to pass its mouth but it never will,

Least  not this particular night.

And hanging from a swamp dogwood tree is the crumpled body of Leroy Shants

Who broke the code of entering the ice cream parlor while

Those troublesome white kids were taking a lifetime to leave.

The Pastor sits looking at his wife wondering how he’d got to be where he’s at,

As Betty Sue spends the final hour of the day putting on some makeup she knows

Is all wrong and does what she always does and cries herself to sleep.

Undertaker Boy swigs another sweet bourbon knowning that he’s  jealous of the dead,

And as my eyes weld shut, the rain falls on Mitchell County and washes away the blood.

Main Street has made it through another day.

When it’s Time for You to Go by Bobby Stevenson

When it’s time for you to go,

Don’t turn and wave,

Instead,

Consider this,

If there should be a blessed place,

Beyond,

A land of half-forgotten ghosts,

Then I will follow you and

We shall meet once more,

But if this other Eden,

Should prove unformed,

Remember this,

One day, I too will rest amongst

The longest sleep,

And you,

Alone, no more.








Approval from the main man :-)

Very touching x Direct message sent by Stephen Fry (@stephenfry) to you (@BobbyStevenson) on Jan 09, 8:45 PM. stephenfry Stephen Fry

The Edge by Bobby Stevenson

 I have been here before,

You should know that of me,

I’ve walked to the edge and stood,

Almost to the tipping point,

Held only by the up drafts,

Daring the winds to mellow,

and let me drop.

When the time comes,

What then?

Jump or be pushed.

There are only so many times,

I can blackmail the angels.