Anthony Aloysius St John HANCOCK
by Ray Galton & Alan Simpson

Introducing Hancock

The following dialogue took place three weeks before the publication of this book in the public bar of a hostelry favoured by rubber-backed carpet manufacturers, second-hand car dealers, bingo operators and other representatives of the nouvelle vague of Britain's impending economic recovery.
The time is ten minutes to three. Enter Tony Hancock, Ray Galton and Alan Simpson. They make their way across the floor, each showing great courtesy in allowing the other two to reach the bar first. Mr Hancock, being out-manoeuvred in a brilliant piece of positional play by the others, finds himself with his foot on the rail under the frosty eye of the barmaid.
 
Tony:
(pleasantly) Good afternoon, madam.
Barmaid:
(unpleasantly) Hurry up.
Tony:
(less pleasantly) What are you going to have?
Ray:
(triumphantly) A large pernod.
Alan:
(rubbing it in) Twice.
Barmaid:
(unpleasantly) Ten and six.
Tony feels in his packet. A smile spreads slowly across his face.
Tony:
That's strange, I could have sworn . . .
Alan:
(to barmaid, resignedly) How much?
Barmaid:
(unpleasantly) Ten and six.
Tony:
No, no, please, I insist. (To Ray): Lend me a quid.
Ray:
All right then . . . here you are.
Tony:
Thanks. I'll buy the next round then. Oh . . . just a minute
Barmaid:
(unpleasantly) What?
Tony:
I don't think I'll have the half of bitter . . . um . . . a large brandy.
Alan:
She's already poured the bitter.
Tony:
Oh. Well, never mind. I'll use that as a chaser. You don't mind?
Alan:
(beaten) No, no, of course not.
Barmaid:
(unpleasantly) Another six shillings please.
Tony:
Well . . . good health.
Ray:
Cheers.
Tony:
(placing an ill-fitting cashmered elbow into a puddle of lager and lime) Well now, about this book.
Alan:
Yes?
Tony:
Well . . . I'm not getting anything out of it, am I?
Ray:
(quickly) Have another drink.
Tony:
No, it's just that, well . . . I thought as I was in the shows originally, and well, you know . . . they're using my pictures, and well, I just thought that perhaps . . .
Alan:
Ah well, yes, that's quite true, but they're only buying the copyright you see, the written word.
Tony:
Oh quite, quite, I do see that. It's just that . . . I will have another drink.
Ray:
A large brandy and two halves of bitter, please, miss.
Tony:
You do realise, it's not the money, it's just that . . . well, I naturally thought that taking into consideration my connection with the shows, and all things being equal, by and large . . . well, it was my agent really, he thought that as you were using my name and my photographs, that taking things all round, in the final analysis, so to speak . . . he felt that I would be entitled to at least . . .
Alan:
Have a cigar?
Tony:
Oh, thank you. The ones in metal tubes, miss, yes one of those . . .
Barmaid:
(unpleasantly) Three?
Alan:
One. And ten Barons, please.
Ray:
Well, the fact is, Tone, old man, none of us are likely to make a fortune out of it. I expect we'll be lucky to get back what we've paid out in drinks here . . . (laughs gaily).
Tony:
Well, exactly. That's just what I told my agent, but he thought that if I was to share in the loot, I would feel more sort of . . . connected with it.
Ray:
Well, I don't know, I mean you can't really assess just exactly how much it will be worth to you . . . I mean money isn't everything. There's all that free publicity, pictures all over the bookshops. . . newspapers . . .
Tony:
Quite, quite. (Pause). But how much money do you think you're going to get out of it?
Alan:
Money? Oh, nothing much . . . chicken-feed, a few bob here and there, cigarette money. It wouldn't even be worth bothering your accountant with.
Ray:
It's just nice to see the scripts in print. Prestige . . . up on the bookshelf at home, you know. Makes you feel more literary.
Tony:
Hmmm. How much is it selling for?
Alan:
Two and six, I think . . . It's a paperback.
Tony:
Two and six. How much are they paying you in advance royalties?
Ray:
Have another drink?
Tony:
Oh, thanks. Two and six a copy. Let's see, say fifty thousand . . . and you'll be on a percentage . . . at two and six, that's . . . two fifties are a hundred, six fifties are . . . no, wait a minute five sixes are . . . no, hang on . . .
Ray and Alan move off left and converse animatedly in Whispers. They return to the bar.
Ray:
Look, I'll tell you what we'll do. We've had a chat, and while we do not agree with your agent -
Alan:
We are prepared, under the special circumstances -
Ray:
Though admitting no liability . . . Taking into consideration the effect your enormous personal popularity will have on the sales of the book -
Alan:
And bearing in mind the value of your name and how closely - no, inextricably - you are connected with the manuscripts concerned -
Ray:
(furtively) We are prepared to offer you, in your backpocket, in ones, a lump sum, no questions asked, no income tax, it won't go through our accounts... in cash, a settlement in lieu of your interests.
Tony:
How much?
Ray:
Thirty bob.
Tony:
Two quid.
Ray:
It's a deal.
Tony:
There you are, I knew we wouldn't fall out over money. The best of luck with the books then, lads.
Alan:
Thank you very much.
Tony:
Have you got the old, er . . . you know . . . have you got it on you?
Alan:
Oh, I'm sorry. A quid each. Do you mind silver?
Tony:
No, no.
Money changes hands.
Tony:
(enthusiastically) Well then, I think it's my turn to buy the drinks. Drink up.
Barmaid:
(pleasantly) Time, gentlemen, please. No more orders.
Tony:
Oh, what a shame. Never mind, next time. Cheerio then.
Galton and Simpson:
Cheerio.
 
That, then, will give you some idea of the man you are about to meet in these pages. A shrewd, cunning, high-powered mug. You may think we were hard on him in our little business transaction, but we wouldn't mind betting he makes more out of it than we do.
Ray Galton & Alan Simpson

As you can see, from the picture at the top of this page, there were two publications of this particular book. They date from: 1961 to 1962, and are as follows:

1st, André Deutsch Ltd, hardback, published in 1961

2nd, Corgi Books, paperback, published in 1962

You can find copies of this book second-hand, but it's as rare as they come and definitely one of the hardest books to come by. You could pay £30, for a copy in hardback, maybe more, if you were willing. Then again you might be lucky and get a copy for a fiver!

 

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