Extract from "Mrs Partington's Mop"

 

Hancock, shoulders slumped, eyes filled with despair, yet a sparkle of interest is now seen, as he stares around the hotel room and looks stage right at the imaginary window.

Hancock: (Mumbles, then speaks clearly). For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow. Not until of my choosing.  Told George once that the only spirits came in bottles. Brandy and Vodka. Ed and the crew have treated this neurotic fool admirably. The producers will have kittens when they realize the title of my last show will be suitably macabre. I have had my lost weekends, lost weekdays, but I see now with a clarity that I never saw before. I find that peculiar now that the pressure has lifted. I did suffer from heat exhaustion once and was not believed.  Everything’s gone full circle and I am back where I started. Typical. I was going to quote George Arliss, but that will come for another time. My professional beginnings do owe a lot to Educating Archie. (Laughs). I should do the bottle of water trick and try to speak. I should have gone to Brighton instead of coming here. Where are the plum jam sandwiches when you need them? We comedians do crave immortality! I can still recall the old man who was a sand sculptor at Bournemouth telling  me when I was a boy "Always remember, young Hancock," he said, "there is no trap so deadly as the one you set yourself. " I never realized what he was speaking of until years later.

(Pauses, crouching with a limp, before straightening up as he says).

 I, Tiberius, Claudius, Drusus, Nero, Hancock. This that and the other. (Sighs). A name like my is recognizable. The forename little matters. Apologies to Robert Graves, by the way. I couldn’t resist that just now after looking in the mirror. I looked more like Toad of Toad Hall than Dogberry. (Stares around, disconcerted). When I had nothing to lose, I always succeeded. Fortune can be unkind that way. My onscreen persona became complicated, merging with myself until people could never tell us apart. (Coldly, as he splutters). Hancock. Christ, I miss old Blighty. I am a comedic character actor. Should have admitted that years ago. I don’t know who I was until I arrived on set. That’s when it becomes interesting.

(Pauses).

Dennis and Duncan were the best in the early days. Like Hitchcock, Duncan knew his actors and actresses who could play any role in the show. That’s why we were so good, and people could relate to us. I had to live with the publicity afterwards and wished the damn ground would open, swallowing me when it became unbearable. That may sound ungrateful, and I have been called many unkind things. Like old Claudius, I will give you a potted version of happenings while I wait in this damned silence. There is no-one to speak with and I would rather be penned in here than out pounding the streets. Well, I’m up earlier than usual. At least, I think I am. This hairshirt routine I put myself through each day will have to cease. Not good for the old noggin that has taken a bit of a bashing, believe me. I have been here nearly three months and it’s quite pleasant.  This is no Mrs. Partington’s Mop. (Laughs). That’s one for you intellectuals to sort out. I’m not as clever as you look, mate. (He rubs his finger vigorously in his right ear). I wish this rushing of the sea would stop in my lugholes. (Pauses, pondering).  Then, again, there is supposed to be a good cure for this problem, so they say, if you continually sing “Ding, Dong Merrily on High!” in a tenor voice. Better not try that because it will give them something else to grumble about after I rang that bloody bell the ship’s Captain gave me coming over on the Andes. That’s the passenger ship, not the mountain. No maudlin thoughts for me. There is no excitement today. That’s the problem. I am everywhere and nowhere.  All the best events are in the past and one can only read of them. Vicarious something or other is used to describe it. The best way to go would be fighting for your country in a good old battle. Waterloo? Why not? Charging towards the French cannons would have been something as I finished a few of the swine off with the rest of Hancock’s Soldiers behind me. We would all be there. (Laughs). June and Patricia would have a field day! Afterwards, Sid would offer Napoleon a few soaked, boiling teabags so he could he ease his aching haemorrhoids as he journeys in his coach towards exile. Oh, we have become complacent since with boredom.  The room is to my liking. The view is splendiferous, but it’s not Earl’s Court. You would never know Earl’s Court used to be farming land, would you? I saw an old photograph of the farm once. (Wistfully). All gone now.