An Interview with Simon Vinyl

As special guest star in the new season of Plastic St, Simon Vinyl's character is certainly making waves. But what's it like playing yourself on an internet phenomenon? We catch up with Simon on the set of his 'day job', I've Got Talent, Get Me Out of Here.

Simon, you're not the first celebrity to play themselves on a show. What's the attraction?

As a global megastar I'm always being offered acting parts. What drew me to the part of myself? Well, I've always admired myself. What better part could there be?

Could you stop licking the mirror? That's actually pretty disgusting.

Sorry. I also get to wear a helmet and visor for the whole show.

So you don't even need to act, really.

I could if I wanted to.

I'm sure. And how did you get on with the other cast members? Dame Margaret Montgomery, for example?

The old girl's a hoot! Nothing like her character. You'd never guess she was just an ordinary old granny, plucked off the streets with her tartan shopper still in her hand -

Stop - are you reading that?

- copyright Plastic St publicity department. What? No. Okay, okay! I took a bribe.

We know Dame Margaret's past was a publicity stunt, Simon. Cut the crap.

All right. I'll tell you the truth. Dame Maggie is an incontinent, alcoholic old hag -

On second thoughts, can you resume the crap.

With pleasure. The whole cast were lovely and we will all remain dear, dear friends. Facebook friends only, hopefully.

In the episodes we are about to see, your character Simon Vinyl, based on yourself, decides to start a reality TV show about Plastic St. Is this taking postmodernism to the extreme? An internet soapblog about a reality show about an internet soap blog? Do you think the producers are getting a bit 'up themselves'?

I thought you were a fan of Plastic St. Hang on - are you reading that?

Okay, okay! I took a bribe too! From Wooden St. It's a rival soapblog on - whisper it - Wordpress. They just wanted me to introduce some doubt, make Plastic St look pretentious.

You phoney.

You're the phoney, Simon.

God, I love phonies. Shut the trailer door. Let's lick some mirrors.


I'VE GOT TALENT, GET ME OUT OF HERE is on Saturday nights at 8 pm on Sid. PLASTIC ST is on whenever the producer can be arsed.

Episode 23 - Impressing Simon

The park erupted with a ear-exploding tidal wave of sound. Gore Hell Vandals were giving it everything they had. Everything they had consisted of two chords, and they gave those two chords as much abuse as they could muster.

Simon Vinyl nodded his head. It was hard to see his expression as he wore a helmet with its visor down. He was either nodding in approval or in affirmation of a decision to commit suicide. Wendy hoped it was the former. Perhaps being picked out for fame and fortune might help Brandon to live a better life. After all, celebrities had no problems. Look at Simon Vinyl himself: filthy rich, a judge on the greatest talent show in the world, Plastic's Got Talent, and a weekly fixture of Wotcha magazine's Wotcha Gotcha! page which photographed famous people pretending to look slightly annoyed but secretly being pleased. That was the life. If her son could have just a little bit of that, Wendy would be happy.

If he stopped trying to kill people too, that would be a bonus.

She ran (or rather, sashayed - Simon was watching) over to Joss and Mary, who were waiting on the pyramid tea bag stage for Uterus's chance to perform.

"As soon as they finish the last note, we start!" Joss said sternly. She meant business: her teeth were gritted and her plastic hair seemed more tightly curled than ever. Joss had poured her heart and soul into Uterus and now was the defining moment of her life. Was there room in the market for menopausal pop? If they failed, Wendy feared for her sister's sanity. What else could Joss do? If Uterus failed she would end up wandering round Plastic St muttering to herself and singing snatches of hormonally charged lyrics about why men never sorted out their sock drawers.

With that realisation, Wendy felt better. Her sister's life would go on much as before.

"Ready for that last note?" Joss yelled.

Wendy and Mary nodded. Joss strapped on her acoustic guitar while Wendy bent over her theremin with outstretched hands. Half an hour later they were still in the same positions.

"Exactly how long does Plastic Melts in Hell last, Wendy?" Joss sighed.

"It depends if it's the remixed version or -" Wendy stopped mid sentence. "Look, it's Mum!"

Granny Gold was creeping out of the school house cradling something under her arm. As the members of Uterus watched, she sidled up to the main stage where Gore Hell Vandals were performing and shoved the device underneath.

Then she ran.

Wendy smiled. "Isn't it nice to see Mum take an interest in the community?"

Episode 22 - Let the Battle Commence

Brandon hurried over to the park where the rest of the Gore Hell Vandals were waiting for him. The stage was set up and a trickle of people were beginning to arrive - mostly those with no lives. Brandon sneered at them.

At the other side of the park he could see Mary Plastic, his mum Wendy and his annoying Auntie Joss doing vocal exercises for Uterus's Hot Flush number. What a load of losers. They had nothing as good as the Vandal's Anarchy in Plastic St, Up Yours with Plastic Bits On and the haunting I've Got a Piece of Plastic for a Heart, Have You?.

His mum caught sight of him. Before he could escape she came hurrying over. "Mary says you tried to push her off the abyss, darling!"

"Didn't," Brandon mumbled.

"Could you please stop trying to kill people, just for today?" Wendy tried to take her son's arm but he shook her off. "I do worry about you, darling, living with Granny in her den of evil. And have you seen Grandad recently? I hear he's wandering about claiming to have had a religious experience!"

"You mean he's alive?"

"Of course he is! Oh Brandon, you didn't, did you?"

"Why do you always blame me!" Brandon burst out. "Whenever someone gets killed it's always my fault!"

Suddenly there was a screech of brakes and a red sports car drew up. Out stepped a mysterious figure in full racing driver gear. He looked Wendy up and down approvingly, or at least his helmet turned in her direction.

"Hi, babe!"

"Simon Vinyl!" Wendy gasped, collapsing into Brandon's arms.

"That's right, you menopausal minx! I hear there's a music contest going on round here. Why don't you show me what you've got, and maybe I'll show you fame and fortune!"

Brandon dropped Wendy and ran to his drum kit. "'Quick, play Plastic Melts in Hell!" he yelled to the rest of the band. "One, two, three, four!"

Episode 21 - Shocking Evil

Being evil wasn't easy, Granny Gold mused as she began to gather the equipment she needed. She hadn't made a bomb since she was a child. Things had certainly changed since those golden days. She vaguely remembered running wild through the Street, posting explosives through people's letterboxes and laughing until she wet her knickers. Actually, things hadn't changed all that much.

She started to assemble the bomb, following her own instructions on the Lesson 35 diagram. What a pity all her training manuals for Brandon on becoming the Ultimate Evil were going to be wasted. He had seemed such a promising child, torturing his sisters and even getting one put into a wheelchair. For a time she had admired him, had almost lov... lov... lov... No, she couldn't even think the word. Granny Gold was incapable of love. But if she hadn't been, she might have loved Brandon.

Not now, though. He was as vacuous as the rest of them. The Battle of the Bands? What was next, the Plastic Factor? Dancing on Plastic? I'm Plastic, Get Me Out of Here?

She had no idea where those show titles came from. There was only one television in Plastic St and she never got to watch it because it was in The House. The only house. The house that should have been hers. She was the oldest person in the street. She had the weakest bladder. That house had a toilet and a bath with running water sound effects!

Enraged at the unfairness of it all, she misaligned some wires and gave herself an electric shock. Luckily she happened to have a mild heart attack at the same time and the shock simply restarted her heart without her knowing anything at all about what had just happened.*

* Comic situation copyright Harry Hill 1997. Goal!