Bill Hicks: Kill yourself!

Hicks’ glorious bit about working in advertising builds and extends through various stand-ups in various clubs throughout the movie.

In each scene, the bit loops to the start and plays out an extra line or two, an extra round or two, an extra topper or two of rising laughter.

Hicks stands on stage, microphone in hand.

‘By the way, if anyone here is in advertising or marketing, kill yourself!

Audience laughter crackles. Hicks nods and smiles.

‘Thank you, thank you. It’s just a little thought, I’m just trying to plant seeds. Maybe one day they’ll take root – I don’t know. You try, you do what you can.

Hicks tosses out imaginary seeds into the audience.

‘Kill yourself. Seriously though, if you are, do. Aaah, no really. There’s no rationalisation for what you do and you are Satan’s little helpers. Okay – kill yourself!

‘Seriously, you are the ruiner of all things good. No, this is not a joke.

Hicks mimics a gleeful audience member.

‘You’re like, there’s going to be a joke coming ...

Hicks straightens up.

‘There’s no fucking joke coming. You are Satan’s spawn filling the world with bile and garbage. You are fucked and you are fucking us. Kill yourself! It’s the only way to save your fucking soul. Kill yourself!

Audience breaks into cheer. Hicks skips and tosses out more imaginary seeds.

‘Thank you, thank you. Planting seeds. I know all the marketing people are going, He’s doing a joke ... There’s no joke here whatsoever. Suck a tail-pipe, fucking hang yourself, borrow a gun from a Yank friend – I don’t care how you do it. Rid the world of your evil fucking machinations.

Hicks looks aside.

‘I know what all the marketing people are thinking right now. Oh, you know what Bill’s doing? He’s going for that anti-marketing dollar. That’s a good market. He’s very smart.

Hicks bites his tongue. Annoyed.

‘Oh man, I am not doing that, you fucking, evil scumbags! Ooh, you know what Bill’s doing now? He’s going for the righteous indignation dollar. That’s a big dollar. A lot of people are feeling that indignation. We’ve done research – huge market. He’s doing a good thing.

Hicks hunches, lips against the microphone. Angry.

‘Godammit, I’m not doing that, you scumbags! Quit putting a goddamn dollar sign on every fucking thing on this planet. Ooh, the anger dollar. Huge. Huge in times of recession. Giant market. Bill’s very bright to do that.

Hicks mimics being trapped.

‘God, I’m just caught in a fucking web. Ooh, the trapped dollar, big dollar, huge dollar. Good market – look at our research. We see that many people feel trapped. If we play to that and then separate them into the trapped dollar.

Hicks hangs his head.

‘God, how do you live like that? And I bet you sleep like fucking babies at night, don’t you?

Hicks lays down on the stage as if in bed with his wife.

‘What did you do today, honey? Oh, we made arsenic a childhood food now, goodnight.

Hicks snores peacefully.

‘Yeah we just said, you know, is your baby really loud? The mums will love it.

Hicks stands. Prowls the stage.

‘Sleep like fucking children, don’t you. This is your world, isn’t it?’

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