Hancock's Half Hour Lost Sitcoms

Ladies and gentlemen. We present Tony Hancock in...

Ha-ha, Hancock's Half Hour.

It is always a very important event in any street when new neighbours

move in. The furniture van draws up,

the removal men start unloading the furniture onto the pavement,

and carrying it into the empty house.

On the face of it, no-one is particularly concerned.

There is no reception committee, all the front doors are shut.

The street is deserted.

Can it be that no-one is interested?

Don't you believe it. Not a move is being missed.

Every egg cup is being counted. BIKE BELL RINGS

Mr Hancock, would you please sign these fan letters?

I'd like to get them off in this morning's post.

Shush! Shush! Quiet! Oh, come away from the window.

Oh, shut up!

Stone me, look at this stuff going in here.

Radio, television set, big screen.

Must be all of eight inches.

They're rich, I tell you, rich!

Nip into the kitchen and see what we're short of.

Come away from the window, it's nothing to do with you.

What will the neighbours think if they see you?

They won't see me. They're too busy pricing the furniture.

Look, all the way down the street, not a curtain in place.

Old Mother Higgins over there, look at her.

Standing with her back to the window,

trying to kid them she's not interested.

Perhaps she isn't.

Of course she is. She's got a dirty great mirror on the opposite wall!

They're all the same.

This is the nosiest street in the district.

Mrs Brown at number 12, lying on the floor with her

periscope poking over the windowsill.

And those three old maids living next door to her,

they're taking it in turns - shift work.

One watching, one making tea,

and the other writing poison pen letters.

Dead nosey, they are!

If I had my way, I'd...

Hello! Hello!

Flash curtains that's going in there, aren't they?

What revolting colours.

Never do down this street, they won't.

Honestly, you're just as bad as the others.

I am not. How dare you? It's none of your business. Oh, yes, it is.

I have a perfect right to know what sort of people

are moving in next door to me.

We want no undesirables around here.

You can always tell what people are like by what they've got.

Look, look. Look, look, look.

Look what's going in now. Vacuum cleaner, washing machine,

box of tinned food.

Goes to show what sort of wife he's got.

Bone idle.

Feet up, box of chocolates, Mrs Dale's Diary,

and she's away for the day.

Well, that's ridiculous.

I know the type. Dyed blonde hair, out every night, back about one,

and not with him. He ought to be told about it.

Always the last to know, the husband.

I bet he's a little bloke, works hard, married a fancy bit,

20 years younger than him.

Never work out, those marriages.

You haven't even seen them yet.

I don't have to see 'em. You can tell.

Hello. Hello.

Yes. There goes the cocktail cabinet.

Look at the size of that.

Her and her fancy friends, that's for.

I bet he never gets a look in.

I bet she don't let him out, either.

Five minutes down the park with the dog, that's his lot.

Well, come away from the window. It's all over now.

They've everything in. You won't find out anything more about them.

Well, that's where you're wrong, you see.

I've got old Harris, from upstairs, watching.

A sort of double check, to make sure we haven't missed anything.

I've sent him out on a recce.

Where is he? Out in the front garden.

Well, I can't see him.

Yes, you can. You see that big rhododendron bush

growing in next door's front garden? Which one?

The one that just nipped back across the lawn and jumped over the fence.

That's Mr Harris?

Yes, I think so. Or is he the rose bush?

No, that's Mrs Brown's old man.

Yes, this is Mr Harris.

Look, he's on his way back.

Quick, open the door, let him in.

Oh! Oh!

Come on, don't just stand there.

Help me get this foliage off.

Close the door. Well, did you get the list?

Yes, and I don't mind telling you I feel very ashamed of myself.

It's not right, spying on people.

They are entitled to privacy.

I don't know why I agreed to do it.

Because you're getting half a dollar out of it, mush, that's why.

Now, give us that list.

There you are.

It's all down. Everything they own.

I didn't miss a thing.

Good lad. Now, let's have a look.

What have they got that I haven't?

Practically everything.

All right, well, never mind about that.

Just read out the list. Well, there were two crates of crockery, lino,

carpets, coal scuttle, curtains...

Coal scuttle? Yes. That means they have coal.

Yes. Well, thank goodness for that.

I thought we were going to have to chop down

another telegraph pole this winter. What else have they got?

Tables, chairs, a radiogram, a lawnmower.

Lawnmower?

Give them a couple of days to settle in, we'll have that.

What sort of bloke do you think he is?

Well, I'd say lower-middle-class,

but quite well educated judging by his bookcase.

Reads a lot.

Mostly crime stuff, authentic accounts of famous murderers,

I saw The Mass Murderer Of Leipzig, The Bluebeard Of Bordeaux,

The Basingstoke Wife Murderers,

Case Histories And Methods Of 100 Homicidal Maniacs...

He's got a big trunk full of assorted women's clothing.

A large collection of guns, daggers and axes,

a lot of gardening equipment - spades, pickaxes, forks,

probably does a lot of digging.

A large zinc bath and...an incinerator.

Oh, well, he seems harmless enough!

Did you say women's clothing? Yes. Probably his wife's.

No, no, no, no. He lives alone.

They only took one bed in, a single bed.

There you are, you see, Mr Hancock, you were wrong.

He's not married. Not necessarily. What does a single bed prove?

They could be two very thin people.

Well, there's nothing more we'll find out about him at the moment.

Now, I'll make out the rota for tonight.

Synchronise watches.

Two hours on, four off.

You make the cocoa, and good luck, chaps.

Dear, Oh, dear.

20 past seven.

Hold on, he's coming out again.

Quick, get back behind the curtains!

Now where's he going this time?

I don't know. Strange how he always goes out at night.

You never see him during the day.

What's that he's carrying under his arm?

Looks like a bundle of old clothes.

Let's see now, yes.

Red blouse and a black skirt.

Wait a minute. Red blouse, black skirt, no,

it's not on the list of stuff that went in.

Well, perhaps it arrived afterwards.

No, the only thing that's gone into that house since he arrived

was that girl he brought home last night.

Oh, yes. The one who was dead drunk.

Out cold. He had to carry her in.

The only clothes she had with her were the ones she was wearing...

A red blouse and a black skirt.

When did she leave?

Well, I don't know. I didn't see her leave.

Well, she didn't leave while I was on duty.

Eileen! Oh, God...

Creeping up on me like that!

Have you seen a young woman come out from next door?

No. But I did see him go out at three o'clock this morning.

Just by himself? Yes.

Apart from a big sack he was carrying over his shoulder.

A big sack? What was in it?

A pile of bones.

Bones?

What did he do with them? He buried them in the back garden.

I knew it. I knew it! I knew I was right.

You said it was no business of mine, well, I was right,

it's just as I suspected.

What? That dog of his, it's dead lazy,

it won't even bury its own bones.

But what about the girl?

Well, keep looking, she'll have to come out sooner or later.

Well, I don't like it.

Spying on that poor little man.

You've been watching his every move since he arrived.

I'm merely trying to find out what he's up to.

You have to admit he's been acting very strange.

Not a noise out of him during the day,

and then as soon as it strikes midnight, he's at it.

Choppers being sharpened, an incinerator burning all night,

that wolfhound of his baying at the moon...

And him nipping up and down the garden path in a dirty great cloak,

digging holes all over the place.

Gives you the willies!

I wouldn't mind if he was sociable, but he won't talk to you.

Well, have you tried?

Of course I have.

I called to him over the fence yesterday morning.

What did you say? Asked if I could have me ball back.

Well, why didn't you just climb over the fence and get it back yourself?

I tried that. I was halfway over and a dirty great chopper

came flying out of the kitchen window.

Nearly split me asunder.

Took 4.5 inches off me shoulder pad.

I'm sure he doesn't want anyone to find out

what's going on inside that house. Yes.

There is something sinister about that man.

What's he burning in that incinerator?

And where's that girl?

Why has he got a zinc bath full of acid?

I mean, what's going on in there?

I mean, what sort of monster have we got living next door to us?

You're a man, you've got to do something about it!

You've got to do something about it! All right, all right, I'm going to!

What? Leave that ball where it is and buy another one!

Mr Hancock, you've got to do something about this man.

I mean, where does he come from?

Who is he? We must find out more about him.

Yes, you're coming round to my way of thinking now, aren't you?

I'm not as daft as I look, am I?

Let's go to the police. No, no.

We can't do that. What can we prove?

Besides, they won't take any notice of us.

We've had them out here on wild goose chases before.

Remember that foggy night last November?

You and your dial 999, "There's two tall,

"thin men with big heads lurking on the corner

"signalling to each other"?

Well, how was I to know they'd just fitted a zebra crossing?

No, no, we've got to do this by ourselves.

But where do we start?

Find out who he is.

Yes, but how?

Easy, we'll go and have a word with the estate agent

he bought the house from.

Good idea. Let's see now, who is the estate agent?

Oh, look, they've still got the board up in the front garden.

Oh, yes. Sold by...

Hello, it's the same people we got ours from.

Albert Slum and Company.

Now, don't forget. When we speak to this estate agent

be careful what you say.

We've got to be dead crafty over this.

We've got our suspicions, but we might be wrong.

We can't go around accusing people without proof or we might get in

trouble. We've got to worm the information gently out of him.

Don't be too eager. Gradually get round to it.

The subtle approach, that's what we want.

The subtle approach.

Who's that murderer we've got living next door to us?!

So much for the subtle approach.

We'd like to have a word with your manager, please.

Certainly. Who shall I say wishes to see him?

My card.

Anthony Hancock.

I see.

Actually, he doesn't have anybody with him at the moment

so perhaps you'd like to go straight in.

Thank you, my man, you've been most 'elpful.

'Ave a toffee.

Hello, Hancock. Sidney James.

What are you doing here? Where's the manager?

I'm the manager. I took the business over last week.

Always wanted to get into this estate agent racket.

And where, pray, is the former owner, Mr Albert Slum?

Well, he had to, um, retire because of his health.

What was wrong with him? A bump came up on his head. Oh?

It was one of those unfortunate accidents

that could happen to anybody.

I took him down the building site to discuss terms with him.

All of a sudden, what do you think?

What? Half a pound of sand fell on top of his head.

Half a pound? How did it do all that damage?

I can't understand it. I wrapped it in a sock.

Now then. What can I do for you?

Well, as you know, we live in one of your houses.

And you've got a complaint?

No, no. It's all right, Sid. You can put the sock away.

We just wanted to ask you...

There is nothing wrong with the place.

No, I know. You are not getting a new roof.

No, I know. There's nothing wrong with the roof. I know, but...

Those tarpaulins are as good as tiles any day.

Of course they are. Well, then.

I didn't come here to complain about the roof.

What's wrong with the plumbing? Nothing. I just want to...

That plumbing's as good now as the day it was put in.

It hasn't been put in yet! It doesn't matter.

When it goes in it will be good. Well, I'm glad to hear it.

No-one else has complained about the pump at the end of the street.

Neither am I... The water's all right once it's been boiled.

Yes, of course it is. If you don't like it

I can always get someone else to live there.

Yes, I expect you can.

I can get 20 nicker a week off those American airmen any day.

Yes, I know, I've got three living in the loft.

Now look... I don't know what you're talking about,

dry rot on the living room floor? I never mentioned it.

I should think not. It was there before you were.

I haven't even noticed. I just want to...

Those walls are not falling to bits. I never said they were!

That big, gaping hole in the dining room was part of the design.

It's a service hatch.

Yes, from the dining room through to the street! That's right.

So help me, I didn't know there were two floorboards

missing in the bedroom. Yes, well, you see...

Don't worry, the ceilings are quite safe,

if you don't walk about too much. Sid, will you listen to me?

I haven't come here to complain about the house.

There's nothing wrong with the house. I'm quite happy with it.

You are? Yes. Good. As of next week the rent's up another 25 bob.

Goodnight.

Well, I hope you're satisfied. I'm not paying any more.

You'll have to pay it. Sid, look. Are you still here?

Let me explain. We can't afford your explanations.

Let me take care of it. Mr James, I shall come straight to the point.

We're very interested in the man who's living next door to us.

All right, where do you live? You know where we live. No, I don't.

You've just explained everything that's wrong with the place.

All my properties are like that. It could be any of them.

Where do you live?

23 Railway Cuttings.

Yes, and we want you to tell us everything you know

about the chap who's moved in to number 25.

Oh, I'm sorry. I can't divulge any information about my clients.

It's against all the ethics of the estate agent's charter.

It's more than my entire business is worth.

Now, I'm sorry. I am not allowed to tell you anything about him.

Born 1898, poor family, left school when he was...

All right, let's have all this slowly.

Who is he? What does he do? Where does he come from?

Well, to tell you the truth, I don't know much about his private life.

He came to see me about a month ago, said he was looking for a big house,

in a quiet part of town.

Where he wouldn't be disturbed, and he'd be left alone,

no questions asked.

And neighbours who'd mind their own business,

and wouldn't keep watching and spying on him.

Well, he's up to no good.

He's a dangerous man.

Nonsense! He's a little, meek inoffensive bloke.

So was Crippen. I tell you, he's all right.

His money's good, and that's all I'm concerned with.

Oh, if only you knew. Girls disappear.

The incinerator's burning all night.

He digs holes all over the place,

and he takes bundles of clothes away and disposes of them.

You've no idea what goes on in that house at night-time.

I've no idea what goes on in a lot of my houses at night-time.

That's why the rents are so high.

Well, something ought to be done. None of us are safe.

You're imagining things. I tell you, he's perfectly harmless.

Now, go home and forget about it.

Very well,

but don't say I didn't warn you.

We shall all be murdered in our beds.

You think so? Yes. Right.

As from today I want the rent in advance, cheerio.

Good day to you.

Murdered in their beds.

You buzzed, Sid?

Yeah, Fred, you handled the deal with that bloke

who moved in next door to Hancock. What do you know about him?

Oh, you mean Mr Tomkins? The waxwork maker?

The what? He makes waxwork models.

Very clever man. Just a minute, just a minute.

Where does he do all this? At home.

He's turned the house into a workshop.

I was chatting to him about it. Ever such a nice man.

You see, he goes down to the waxworks,

and collects the old models they don't want any more,

then he brings them home and melts them down in the incinerator

in his back garden. Go on.

Then he makes new models from the wax. Does very well out of it.

He makes a fortune on the second-hand clothes

he takes off the old models.

He bundles them up, and every night he takes them

to the rag-and-bone man down the road.

He does all that chamber of horrors stuff.

That's his department.

He's got a wonderful collection of choppers and knives, and things.

They go with the models when he's finished them.

You should see his reference books.

All the bloodthirsty murderers that ever happened.

Lovely!

Yeah, but why all the mystery?

Why does he have to do all his work at night-time?

So no-one will see him. It saves a lot of bother.

He used to work in the day, but he had so much trouble

with the neighbours he had to turn it in.

You wouldn't believe this, but they all thought he was a mass murderer!

Isn't that silly? Laughable.

I saw him this morning. Says he's got a very busy night tonight.

23 models to be collected and melted down.

Reckons he'll be at it all night.

One o'clock. Still no sign of him.

Half an hour since he drove off.

I wonder where he went. To find some more victims, no doubt.

Now, don't forget, if we see anything suspicious,

we phone the police.

Oh, look, he's coming back. There's his van.

Quick, turn the lights out. Action stations.

What's in the van? Can you see?

I can't quite make it out.

Ah! What?

Bodies.

Dead bodies.

Dozens of them. The van's packed with dead bodies!

Hello!

This bodes dodgy.

Look, he's carrying them up the path, one under each arm.

And a couple of legs sticking out of his pocket.

Oh, what sort of monster is he?

What's that he's dribbling across the grass?

A head.

A head?

A head?! The fiend!

The inhuman fiend!

Dribbling a head across the grass! What kind of a man would...

He's pretty good though, isn't he?

You've got to hand it to him. He knows what he's doing.

That's a nifty left foot he's got there.

Oh, well played, sir.

Did you see that body swerve?

He was around that rose bush like a...

Oh, there it is.

Goal! Straight through the front door.

Yes, we could use him on our local team.

All he needs is a ball instead of that head.

Instead of that... Police!

Call the police!

Help! He's a lunatic!

Police! Police! Police!

Why don't the police hurry up and arrive?

We called them ten minutes ago. Where are they?

If they don't get a move on, he'll have got rid of the evidence.

He's already started up the incinerator.

I'm scared. I'm sure he knows that we suspect something.

He'll be after us next.

We'll all be put in that incinerator along with the rest of them.

She's right, you know. He'll have our heads off.

He wants to get his goal average up.

We've got to do something.

Wait! Listen!

The police, they've arrived.

We're safe. He won't dare touch us now.

Quick, open the door. Let them in. Safe at last.

Our heads won't be at his feet after all.

Good evening. Oh, dear, oh, dear.

What are you doing here?

I'm the police, I am.

Well, no wonder Fabian of the Yard retired.

Don't be like that. I'm sorry I'm a bit late,

but I had my feet in a mustard bath.

All this walking about gives you shocking blisters, you know.

Yes, I'm sure it does. I got here as soon as I could.

But by the time I dried my feet and put a new pea in me whistle...

Yes, all right.

Where's the rest of them? Rest of who?

The policemen, from the station.

There's only me. I'm the only one on duty tonight.

There must be some more somewhere.

Oh, there are, hundreds of them.

Well, where are they? Stag's Head.

Darts match every Wednesday night.

Except for me.

They won't let me play. They won't let me have a go at anything.

What a shame. Tug-of-war, policeman's ball,

coach outings to Brighton,

I've never been on any of them.

I always put me name down, but they always cross it off.

Because they don't like me, you know.

They make me stay at home and look after the station.

Yes, well, next door...

Between you and me... Cor blimey!

Between you and me, you're dead lucky to find me in.

I'd only just come back from me night beat.

Yes, very interesting, now this bloke next door...

Before that I was on traffic duty

and then I had to report all the accidents.

What accidents? The ones that happened when I was on traffic duty.

It wasn't my fault, honest, it wasn't.

I was doing all right.

Then me mum walked by, and I waved to her and...

Oh, dear, another mishap. Yes, I'm sure it was.

Now... Bashed up cars all over the shop.

I was knocked down meself, cos they're trying to get rid of me,

you know. They always put me on where there's no speed limit.

Well, that's something. Look, we're in dead trouble...

Between you and me I like night beat best of all.

Yes, I'm sure you do. Now, this bloke next door...

I have to go in all the shop doorways

to see they're locked up.

Yes, look, this guy, he's dangerous.

You should see some of the things that go on in shop doorways!

Look, I'm not interested! There's a homicidal maniac next door,

and we'll all be killed if you don't go...

What sort of things?

I shine me torch in and there are couples in there, kissing.

I have to break them up and send them home.

Well, the blokes, anyway.

Of course, I'm a bit of a devil meself.

Aren't we all? Oh, yes.

I try all the doorways, one after another, you know, sometimes,

on a good night I don't get back to the station at all!

Now, what was it you wanted me for?

Wait a minute, I can't remember.

Oh, yes, we want you to arrest the bloke next door.

He's a homicidal maniac.

He's got dozens of dead bodies in his house,

and he chops them up and puts them in his incinerator,

then he buries the leftovers and goes out and murders some more.

Well, everyone to his own trade.

You don't understand.

The man's a mass murderer.

Oh, that's against the law, isn't it?

Yes, exactly. And if you hurry up, you'll catch him in the act.

Oh, how thrilling, I've never caught a murderer before.

Come to think of it, I've never caught anybody before.

Except the blokes in the shop doorways. Well, yes. Murderer, eh?

Oh, if I catch a murderer they'll be pleased with me, won't they?

They might even put me on the tug-of-war team.

With a bit of luck they'll use you as the rope! Well, yes.

Please, hurry, Constable, before it's too late.

He's out there now, throwing them into the furnace.

Well, let's have a look. Look, down there in the garden.

Oh!

Has he murdered all of them?

Yes, and if you don't do something, we'll all be done for.

It's your duty to go down there and arrest him.

Let's stop messing about.

Are you going to arrest him or not?

Tell you what, you do it, here's me hat. Go on down there!

I demand you arrest this monster!

But I don't like to. I don't even know him.

Go on down there, go on! I don't want to go.

Go on, you're the law! All right, then. But you come with me.

All right. I'll come with you. Through the back door.

There he is, by the incinerator.

Look at him throwing all them bodies in.

He don't care, do he? Look.

He's a political assassin now as well.

Look who he's throwing in - Macmillan,

Thorneycroft, Selwyn Lloyd, Rab Butler...

He's got half the government in there.

He's a raving lunatic!

Oh, I don't know, though, perhaps he knows what he's doing.

We must stop him before he goes any further.

Climb over the wall and arrest him.

Yes, all right. Hold on.

You're the policeman. Oh, yes, so I am.

We'll both climb over. Give us a lift up.

Oh!

There's your evidence. The bath full of acid, or whatever it is he uses.

Mind you don't lose your balance, you'll fall in.

Don't you worry about me, you get on with your job.

Arrest him! Oh, all right.

I arrest you in the name of the...

In the name of the...

Law. That's it. In the name of the law!

I have to warn you that anything you say will have to be repeated,

because I'm a slow writer.

That's it.

Go on, take him away.

Good lad. Assassin!

Murderer! Yes, you thought you could get away with it, didn't you?

You didn't reckon on Sexton Hancock.

The fools, they're going to fall.

Look out, mind the bath, you'll fall into it!

I'm going in! I'm going! THEY SCREAM, SPLASHING

Oh, dear.

And over there we have the finest Burke and Hare,

the well-known body snatchers.

As you can see, in the act of snatching one.

That, of course, is Doctor Crippen,

who was the first criminal ever to be arrested by wireless.

And now, we come to the newest addition to our collection.

One of the most common scenes in the history of British crime.

This set piece depicts a police constable

arresting a man in a shop doorway.

Note the vicious expression on the face of the little fat one.

We can only guess what he's saying to his colleague.

You wait till I get this wax off me!

I shall bash the living daylights out of you!

It wasn't my fault. I wish I'd never listened to you.

I'll never get on that tug-of-war team now.

Oh, shut up. That's all very well for you to say,

I've got a very nasty itch.

Your itching is the least of your worries...

APPLAUSE