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Fifty years ago today, one of the greatest comic minds who ever lived committed suicide in Australia. Tony Hancock had blazed his way through to turning British television on its head with his classic series, HANCOCK'S HALF HOUR, following the programme's triumph on radio. His unique screen persona, as shaped by his writers Ray Galton and Alan Simpson, became an icon and still is. His own personal demons, however, would ultimately spell his doom a decade later. His subsequent projects were all unsuccessful and he was consumed by alcoholism and depression. None of his associates, sadly, were really all that surprised by his death. Today, we can at least celebrate him for the timeless comedy he created at his peak. Sit back and laugh.

Some memories of Tony Hancock, by his friend (and I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue mainstay) Barry Cryer.

My favourite is the story of Cryer's close friend (and ISIHAC mate), the late Willie Rushton, bringing Hancock's cremated remains back from Australia. Going through customs at Heathrow on his return, Rushston was asked by the agent, "What's in that bag you're carrying?" and Rushton replied (to the shocked agent), "Tony Hancock".