Special - The Making of Plastic St

"It really is an enormous amount of fun," says Lou Treleaven, producer, director and internet visionary, when I ask her about the making of the famous blog-soap, Plastic St. It turns out she is actually speaking to someone else, on her mobile. After ten minutes I am able to ask my question again.

"It really is an enormous waste of time," she says.

What?

"A waste of time to ask me, I mean. It's a real team effort, this production. It might be just my name on the credits, but you're talking script editors, casting agents, costume, makeup..."

So how does a typical week pan out when the team is getting ready to produce the polished gem that appears every Wednesday?

"Well, first I draft out a rough script. I know what I want to happen and how I'm going to get from A to B, but that's about it. Then I meet with the script team who come up with some humorous dialogue, a few gags, oh and there's even a double entendre specialist."

Really?

"Yes, at a moment's notice he can whip one out and thrust it in to the script, leaving the audience satisfied and exhausted."

And when you're happy with the script?

"Then it's read-through time. All the cast for that episode meet with the script team and we sit round a table going through it like a radio play. The script is still up for revision even then. Sometimes the actors can come up with dialogue we never thought of. Particularly Rufus (Ray Plastic). He's hilarious."

What about Dame Margaret Montgomery (Granny Gold)?

"Oh, we make sure she has a large print version."

No, I mean does she ever need anything changing?

"Well, her private nurse sees to all that. We'd rather not get involved."

No, I mean -

"I did it once. Never again."

How much rehearsal time do the actors get?

"Not much, because by then it's usually Tuesday and the episode has to be ready to go out the following day. The crew film from the off and we use the best takes. Usually the first ones are the freshest."

You mean they just turn up, do it and go home?

"They're made of plastic. How much rehearsal time do they need? Anyway, if they get something wrong I just threaten to melt them down. I'm joking, I'm joking!"

And lastly, is there anyone on set you've grown particularly fond of? Anyone you're close to?

"Nope."

Could I please have a box set of the first series signed by all the cast?

"Clear off."

Episode 13 - Goodbye Grandad Gold

Grandad Gold lay on his back in the Abyss. It wasn't too uncomfortable, he thought to himself. It helped that he couldn't actually feel anything.

"I'm off, then," Granny Gold called down to him. She looked very far away up there, just a tiny head peering at him.

"Right-y-o. Off to get some help."

"No, just off," Granny Gold said.

"But I'll see you again in a minute - with the ambulance crew?"

Granny Gold smiled. "You can think that if it helps. So long."

"Wait!" Grandad began to call to her, but realised he had no idea what her first name was. He had always called her Granny Gold. How odd. "Wait a minute... Granny Gold... Goldy.... Goldykins..." He racked his brain for a suitable pet name. "My little nugget. My eighteen carat darling. My -" he stopped abruptly. She had gone.

He waited for the ambulance. He knew there was one in Plastic Street - a square, shiny white thing that occasionally emerged from the hospital, did a few pointless laps and returned, empty. Strangely he had never seen any patients in it. No one was born or died. Was that unusual?

His thoughts drifted back to his own childhood and for a moment he was lost in memory. Only for a moment, though. He only had one memory of his childhood: a dazzlingly sunny day in a park throwing a ball and laughing, vague blurred figures standing just out of the picture representing his parents. He realised with a sort of dull inevitability that he didn't know their first names either.

He supposed it was age. Other people probably had great childhood memories. But at least he had his love for Granny Gold - oh, it was absurd. How could he not know her name after all this time?

And then it hit him.

"Plastic St is our past, present and future!"

There was no time. She was Granny Gold, he was Grandad Gold. It had always been so. He couldn't remember his childhood because he had had no childhood. The one memory meant nothing; it could have been a picture he once saw, or even a false memory conjured up to represent what he imagined his past must have been like.

Brandon coming to live with them; that was the only thing that had changed recently. Oh, and falling off this cliff.

Slowly, gingerly, he tried to move. To his surprise, after a few false starts he was able to climb up to a standing position. It must have been the shock of the fall that had paralysed him. He felt himself all over, then looked round for his Elton John glasses. There they were just a few feet away. He put them on. He felt good, like Elton John. Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road. Goodbye Plastic St.

He glanced up at the cliff, then turned his back. Looking through stars, he began to walk.

Episode 12 - Back to the Abyss

"You dropped your Elton John glasses into the abyss?" Granny Gold repeated.

"My bright red ones, shaped like stars -"

"Yes, I am aware of the optical extravagance of Elton John, thank you!" Granny Gold snapped. "Well, we'll just have to go back and get them, won't we? Sorry to break up the happy family reunion. Come on, Brandon."

"I'm not going all the way back there," snarled Brandon. "And I thought the abyss was bottomless? How can Grandad get his glasses back?"

Granny Gold smiled nastily. "I'll find a way."

"Dad!" cried Richard suddenly. "Don't go with her!"

Grandad nodded compliantly. "Go with her, you say? Come on, dear." He shuffled off behind Granny Gold, who was still smiling.

"Dad! No!" Richard ran in front of his parents and pulled his father's arm. "You don't realise. You never have. She's evil! She doesn't even like Elton John!"

Granny Gold took Grandad's arm and marched him quickly away. "Say goodbye to your father nicely, Richard," she called over her shoulder.

"Dad!"

Richard's cries soon disappeared. Granny and Grandad Gold walked back through Plastic St until the road abruptly stopped. There was the abyss, in all its glorious nothingness.

"Can you see them?" Granny Gold asked, pushing Grandad Gold towards the edge.

"No, I need my close-up glasses for that," Grandad muttered, rummaging in his pockets yet again.

"But you look so handsome without them!" Granny Gold cooed. "It's just like when we were first married."

"Really?" Grandad Gold beamed, turning to look at her.

"Yes, I wanted to push you off a cliff then, too. Goodbye for ever!"

Granny Gold gave her husband an enormous shove. She just couldn't resist it this time. Silently he fell off the edge, and after a few seconds Granny Gold heard a distant thump. Cautiously she made her way as far forward as she could and peered over.

"I've had a bit off a fall," said Grandad Gold's tiny voice. "Do I have a personal panic button which instantly alerts the emergency services, like the fictional Mrs Hope in the old magazine ads?"

"No," said Granny Gold.

Episode 11 - Ray Gets a Grip

"Nice boy, that Brandon," murmured Ray to himself as he wandered back into the house.

He had a new vision - he was going to be the father and husband he'd always hoped to be. Not this vague, dispirited version of himself he'd become, constantly searching for meaning in a meaningless world. He would bond with Tom, get him to grow up a bit. They would play football together. He would try to persuade him to put down his plastic train and behave like a normal teenager.

And Sara. The poor girl was scared of her own shadow. Scared of any shadow, in fact, but particularly her own as it seemed freakily to follow her around. He would be a strong role model and show her the world was nothing to be afraid of.

As for Mary - well, it was about time she had that baby. He was beginning to suspect it was just a pillow she'd stuffed up there when he wasn't looking. He'd never seen her without her maternity dress. Perhaps they were sold as a unit: dress with fake bump, ideal for the wife who has run out of excuses. Well, excuse time was over. That baby was coming out.

He marched into the living room where Mary lay sprawled on the only chair, rubbing her bulging stomach with absentminded affection as an over-familiar news programme blared out. He was relieved to see that the other members of Uterus had left.

"Fancy a curry, dear?" he suggested lightly.

"Oh, no thanks," said Mary. "I'm not really in the mood."

I know that, thought Ray glumly. "Don't be silly, love. I'm offering to cook. A lovely hot curry - yum yum. I'll go out and get the ingredients -"

"Ray, it's summer. I don't want a curry. Besides, I want to rehearse some more tonight. Joss has thought of some great dance moves. I don't want to be full of heavy, lumpy curry."

"But you're full of a heavy, lumpy baby. How can you be contemplating pop stardom in your condition?"

Mary dragged herself up and planted her hands where her hips should have been. "Are you saying that woman with babies shouldn't have careers?" she demanded.

"No, I, er..." Ray blustered. "Not when they're about to give birth!" he burst out.

"You male chauvinist pig!" Mary shouted. "Come on, children! We're going out. And we're leaving your father here until he comes to his senses - which could be a long time."

"Good, maybe you'll finally have had the baby by then!" snarled Ray.

Tom and Sara clambered down from upstairs. Sara let out a shriek and pointed at Ray.

"Yes, I know," said Mary, nodding. "He's a living, breathing anachronism."

"No!" wailed Sara. "It's not that! It's his shadow!"

Episode 10 - An Awkward Encounter

"This could be - ah - awkward," remarked Richard, eyeing the three onlookers. They were walking back from the park, Amy and Abigail hopping on and off Anita's wheelchair as they went.

"What could be, dear?" asked Wendy.

"Well," began Richard, taking a deep breath, "it appears we're just about to run into our estranged son who tried to murder our other children, in the company of my megalomaniac incontinent mother, and my witless father who refuses to admit that he married the most evil woman on earth."

"Oh, Richard!" Wendy smiled. "I'm sure you love them really!"

"Let's just presume that's true for the next five minutes, shall we? It'll probably be safer. Hello, Brandon!" Richard said quickly as the group approached.

Brandon looked down at the plastic slotted-together pavement and kicked his ball sulkily. "Dad."

"Brandon, love!" Wendy rushed forward and threw her arms around her son. "Look girls, it's your brother!"

Anita stopped the wheelchair dead. She pulled Amy and Abigail on to her lap and held them tightly.

"Come on, girls," coaxed Wendy as Brandon struggled to free himself from her. "Come and give your brother a hug."

Richard leaned towards her. "He tried to kill them, remember?" he said out of the side of his mouth.

Slowly Wendy let go. "I'm sure he didn't mean it, did you Brandon?"

At last Granny Gold, who had been watching with interest, spoke. "Of course he did, you doting idiot!" she cried exultantly. "He's my grandson!"

"Hmmm," said Wendy in a noncommittal way, remembering the liaison with Goran the tennis professional at the Holiday Inn Express fifteen years ago.

"You just don't like me because I'm not ginger like those three!" Brandon burst out, pointing at Anita, Amy and Abigail. "It's reverse discrimination!"

"That's not true, love," pleaded Wendy. "And besides, you can convert. I've got some ginger hair dye at home. You'll look just like one of the family."

"You fool!" shrieked Granny Gold. "Don't you realise? You can't change here. Nobody can change. We're stuck like this, forever! We've looked into the abyss and seen the future. There is none. Plastic St is our past, present and future!"

There was a stricken silence. Brandon opened his mouth to supply another dramatic a cappella soundtrack, but met Granny Gold's eye and closed it again. It seemed nothing could heighten the drama of this moment.

Until Grandad began rummaging frantically in his jacket. "It's my Elton John glasses!" he wailed. "I think I dropped them into the abyss!"

An Interview with Dame Margaret Montgomery

Firstly may I say what a pleasure it is to meet you, Dame Margaret.

Thank you, dear.

And what a part - Granny Gold, the empress of evil, the archbishop of arch-bitches, the cardinal of cardinal sinners! Is this the pinnacle of your career?

Not really.

Oh.

I mean, I haven't had an acting career. I was plucked off the street to be Granny Gold and, well, here I am!

I'm flabbergasted. You've never acted before?

Never. I was toddling along one day with my shopper, and a nice young man stopped me and said he worked for an obscure internet-only TV channel and would I like to audition for a part? I said yes, of course. I mean, you don't get an offer like that every day, do you? He invited me to his office and I signed a five year contract that very same day.

But you weren't doing too badly before that by the sound of it. You said you were out with your shopper.

Yes, my tartan shopper.

You have a Scottish personal shopper? How a la mode!

It's a bag on wheels, dear. So anyway, they explained they had this character in mind and I was the spitting image of what they wanted.

You must have natural acting ability, then, to bring the character so vividly to life.

Not really. I just play myself, to be honest. That's what the director said to me. Just play yourself, only a tinsy bit more evil. I'll give you an example. When my grandson comes round I give him a slice of ginger cake. When Granny Gold's grandson comes round she gives him a murder weapon. It's only a subtle change but it makes all the difference.

What do you think of method actors like Carl Lovell (Brandon Gold), who prepared for his part by spending three weeks encased in plastic?

Carl is a love. He takes things very seriously, but then he went to drama college. I'm just little old me, an everyday granny plucked from obscurity and thrust into the limelight.

You are fond of cliches, aren't you?

At the end of the day, you've always got something to say.

Dame Margaret, thank you very much.

Since this interview went to press we have discovered that Dame Margaret Montgomery is, in fact, a genuine actress who has trod the boards in the West End for many years, and the story that she is an everyday granny plucked from obscurity was invented by the publicity department of Plastic St. Deplorable.

Episode 9 - The View from the Top

"This," Granny Gold announced, "is the edge of the world."

They had walked right through Plastic St, past the little schoolhouse, the Plastic family house, the vet's and the hospital. They followed the road until it ran out, then walked. Brandon had never been this far, and he suddenly felt his life was very narrow.

"Behold the abyss!" cried Granny Gold dramatically.

"What?" said Grandad.

Granny Gold sighed. "The view. Haven't you got your glasses on?"

"What, these?" Grandad Gold rummaged in his pockets and began to juggle with about six pairs of glasses. "I've got my reading glasses, my long distance glasses, my short distance glasses, my bingo glasses, my toilet glasses -"

"Hang on," interrupted Brandon. "Why would you need a different pair of glasses for going to the toilet? I can't see the point."

"Ah, but I can when I've got my toilet glasses on," Grandad said sagely. "Now, which glasses should I use for looking at a view, I wonder? Ah yes, the panoramics." He set a pair of extra wide glasses on his nose and gazed around. "No, it's no good. Can't see a thing."

Granny Gold huffed. She had a sudden urge to push Grandad from behind and enjoy watching him tumble down the sheer drop in front of them, arms flailing like windmills.

"You're very quiet, my love," Grandad said, putting on an enormous pair of pink star-shaped glasses that made him look like Elton John.

Granny pulled herself together. Now was not the time to bump Grandad off. There would be plenty of other opportunities and besides, Brandon was present and she didn't quite trust her grandson.

Brandon stared down at the drop. So this was it, the end of the world. There was nothing else out there, nothing at all. Nowhere to go. He would leave school, get a job in the hospital or vet's or just wander around aimlessly like most of the Plastic St inhabitants, and that would be it.

The thought made him smile. So there was nothing to live for. Big deal. That meant he had nothing to lose. He could be as evil as he liked, just like Granny Gold, and things could only get better. He surveyed his grandmother, gazing out over the empty landscape like the figurehead on a ship, and he had the sudden urge to give her a shove. If Granny Gold disappeared, it would save a lot of heartache. Granny Gold was pure evil. He would be a hero, once people understood.

He stepped back and kept his hands well to himself. A hero? No way. It was a villain he wanted to be now, it was his destiny. And he would out-villain Granny Gold. But not yet. First he would learn from her. Then he would trump her. And the name of Brandon Gold would be feared, from Plastic St to... He looked around him. From one end of Plastic St to the other end of Plastic St!