The Diamond Ring

Hancock's Half Hour (Radio) First Series - Programme 2

Hancock, begging 'a penny for the guy', finds a diamond ring in his takings. He wants to take it to the police and claim a reward, but Moira assumes it is for her - so Hancock asks Sid to make a copy.

Cast
Tony Hancock
Bill Kerr
Moira Lister
Sidney James
Alan Simpson
Kenneth Williams

Programme Guide

The second show has the familiar theme of Hancock getting into difficulties and turning to Sid for help, only to find himself in deeper trouble as a result.
The fact that it is nearly Guy Fawkes Night encourages Hancock to go out on the streets begging a penny for the guy. However, amongst the pennies in his takings, he finds a diamond ring - the genuine article.
Elated by his good fortune, Hancock eagerly anticipates taking the ring to the Police, where he envisages receiving a substantial reward. Unfortunately, whilst he is showing off his "find", there is a misunderstanding and Moira gains the mistaken impression that the ring is for her. Finding himself in a spot, Hancock decides to call on Sid's help to try and get a duplicate ring made.

The great care that Dennis Main Wilson and the team had taken, to ensure that the total production was of the very best quality, is already evident. There was the choice of supporting players. The blend of voices was well thought out: Moira Lister's authoritarian voice against Bill Kerr's Aussie twang; the discovery of Kenneth Williams with his nasal dexterity and Alan Simpson quietly agreeing with Hancock's fantasies; but probably the most inspired piece of casting was Sid James.

Sid had never before worked in front of a live radio audience and was so nervous during the first few shows that his shaking script threatened to disrupt the broadcasts. However, Sid's rich "lived-in" voice provided a perfect counterpoint to Tony Hancock's own light and shade, which ranged seemingly easily from muttered eloquence to thunderous buffoonery. In much the same way, Sid's materialistic ways complemented perfectly Hancock's failed aspirations and idealism.

Then there was the opening music by Wally Stott. This was to become the most recognisable piece of music on radio and television in the fifties. A snatch of this tune was almost guaranteed to raise a smile of anticipation in the same way that Laurel and Hardy's "cuckoo" music did in cinema audiences in the thirties.

"Hancock's Half Hour" was now into its first run and although it wasn't yet breaking any records, the difficult job that Dennis Main Wilson had had in convincing the BBC to have faith in the project was beginning to be justified. Certainly any adverse criticism of these early shows must be set against the fact that (a) they were employed to fill in a half hour comedy slot, but were not intended to be heard again and (b) they only contained the germ of the idea, the skeletal frame on which time and experience would flesh out the full body. Viewed in this light, these early shows stand up remarkably well.