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!

Episode 20 - Going for Gold

Granny Gold pushed her pointed yellow glasses up her nose and took a sip from the cup of tea that was permanently stuck to her hand. Where was Brandon? And why hadn't she heard the bloodcurdling screams that usually followed a fatal disaster? Surely by now the whole Plastic family should be at the bottom of the abyss in a horrible heap, preferably a two-dimensional one.

She peered out of the schoolroom window and a grimace spread across her face as she saw Mary Plastic hurrying up the road, closely followed by Brandon. Behind them strode Ray Plastic and Richard. They were deep in conversation.

Furiously Grany Gold rapped on the window and Brandon looked up. His face filled with fear but he hurried towards her. She ushered him in quickly and closed the door.

"I am extremely disappointed in you, Brandon! In fact, I hesitate to call you my grandson. Can you not commit a simple mass murder when I ask you?"

Brandon looked back sulkily. "Dad turned up. He told Grandad not to come back. He said you were evil."

"Mmm..." Granny Gold stroked her whiskered chin. "He's cleverer than I thought." She grabbed Brandon by the collar. "But you are stupid! What's that brain of yours filled with?"

"Plastic?" Brandon choked.

"I've trained you to be one of the nastiest, most villainous children Plastic St has ever had. What a waste of time and energy. Hours of lesson plans - for nothing." Granny Gold grabbed a thick lever-arch file titled 'How to be Horrid' and threw it on the floor. Worksheets and diagrams scattered everywhere. She would never get to draw up Lesson 149: First Steps to Fraud now.

"I'm sorry, Granny," Brandon mumbled.

"Sorry?" Granny screamed. "Sorry! Saying sorry isn't in the manual, is it? Apologising isn't in your curriculum! Get out of my sight."

Brandon took a step backwards.

"My sight isn't that bad!"

Brandon ran out of the door.

"Go forth and commit evil!" Granny Gold yelled after him.

"I'm going to the Battle of the Bands!" Brandon called back, still running in case she tried to stop him.

Granny Gold pursed her lips as she watched her grandson disappear. The Battle of the Bands, eh? A big deal. Probably the biggest event in Plastic St. Everyone would be there.

Knees clicking in protest, she knelt down on the floor and began to go through the scattered worksheets. Somewhere here was exactly what she needed. It would be perfect. After all, she didn't need to bother about keeping Brandon out of things. He had gone soft. If this idea worked she would be rid of them all, and the Plastic house and all of Plastic St would be hers.

"Ah! Here it is!" She held the handwritten A4 sheet in the air triumphantly. It was lesson 35: How to Build a Bomb in Ten Easy Stages using only a Hearing Aid, an Electric Toothbrush, an Incontinence Pad, a Pair of False Teeth and Some Handy Household TNT.

Granny Gold smiled.


* PLASTIC ST WILL BE BACK IN THE NEW YEAR - A VERY PLASTIC CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE! *

Episode 19 - Talk to the Hand

Ray got up and peered down into the abyss. There was an old man down there, waving an outrageous pair of novelty glasses. Brandon had been telling the truth! Again that boy had been able to bring Ray back into the here and now, to make him face reality instead of wondering if he was the victim of some crazed experiment.

"Okay, we need a rope and a line of very strong people. Mary, stand aside."

"I will not, you chauvinist!" Mary said hotly, clutching a hand to her unborn child.

"I'll get your kids," Brandon suggested. The evil plan Granny Gold had tasked him with was beginning to come together. The Plastic family would die, horribly, and he, Granny and Grandad could move into their lovely house with a toilet, television, and fake hob, all with realistic sound effects. He rubbed his hands in glee. Soon the whole family would be tumbling over the edge. Screaming, hopefully. He had always loved making people scream.

"Wait!" called out Richard.

Brandon's face darkened. Could his father have figured out the plan? Richard had always thought the worst of him, and had even made Brandon move in with Granny Gold. It was all because he didn't have ginger hair like the rest of the family. And because he had set fire to his sisters' bedroom. But it wasn't fair!

"It's very kind of you and your wife to offer to rescue my father, but I simply can't let you," Richard said to Ray. "I'm Richard Gold, by the way."

Ray held out his hand. "Ray Plastic. Pleased to meet you. And this is Mary."

They shook hands. Richard looked puzzled. "New, are you? Strange, I feel as though we've always known each other."

"I have that feeling too," Ray said. "About everything, really. I wonder, do you ever feel like there's nothing else out there, like we're just lumps of moulded material, bent to another's will -"

But Richard had already approached the edge of the abyss and was leaning over it.

"Dad! You know I love you, don't you?"

"What?" Grandad Gold bellowed.

"I love you!"

"I know you're above me, that's the whole problem! Would somebody please help me up?"

"No, Dad. You don't understand. This is your chance - your chance to walk away from Mum. She's evil! Evil, I tell you! Walk away - and don't look back!"

Grandad Gold stood alone in that great empty space, like a small children's figurine left on a giant carpet. "But I love her," he said simply. "And there's nowhere left to turn."

"But there is, Dad! There's always hope! We can get you counselling - you can join a self-help group."

"Spouses Of Dangerous Enigmatic Matriarchs," Mary suggested.

"Mary says SODEM!" Richard called down.

"No, son, there's literally nowhere to turn." Grandad gestured with his arm. "It's empty down here. So please can I come back up? Your mother does make a nice cup of tea, for all her faults. And I did want to see the Battle of the Bands. Satan Rising by Gore Hell Vandals is sick!"

Brandon and Mary looked at each other. They were both competing that night, Brandon as drummer with the teenage tearaways Gore Hell Vandals, and Mary with her post-menopausal girl group Uterus.

"Uterus are going to win," Mary growled.

"They can't if you're not there," Brandon growled back. He made a grab for Mary and suddenly they were teetering on the edge of the abyss, each trying to push the other over.

"Stop!" Richard shouted. "Brandon, we must play tennis before you die! At least one game!"

Brandon paused and stared at his father. "What's with the weird priorities, Dad?"

Richard swallowed nervously. How could he tell Brandon he suspected he was the result of Wendy's foolish fling fifteen years ago with Goran the professional tennis player?

Mary took the opportunity to duck out from under Brandon's arms. Pushing a concerned Ray away, she checked her watch. "Battle of the Bands starts in ten minutes and I'm not letting Uterus down." She marched back up the road, Brandon running after her making a rude gesture while frantically practising his drum solo at the same time. Ray and Richard exchanged resigned glances, sighed, and followed.

Alone again, Grandad Gold cleared his throat. "Hello? Hello up there? Where is everyone?"

Suddenly a huge dark shadow appeared over him and he was lifted high into the air by what looked like five enormous pink sausages. Before he could wonder what was happening, he was set down gently on the edge of the road leading back to Plastic St.

Grandad Gold brushed himself down. "Humph," he said to himself. "That was handy."

The giant hand behind him paused, as though considering giving the old man a slap, but then seemed to think better of it and rose slowly back into the air and out of sight.

The Return of Plastic St!

Hold your tongues, gossip-mongers! And may you be fitted with scold's bridles if you tell false tales! Can it really be true? Can Plastic St be returning? We sneaked an interview with creator Lou Treleaven to find out the truth...

Lou: Yes, all the rumours are correct. Plastic St is returning.

Us: I hadn't actually asked you anything yet.

Lou: Yes, yes - I told you, stop pestering me! It's true, all right? This siege by the paparazzi has to stop.

Us: Siege? I just bumped into you in the Co-Op.

Lou: And you can leave my private life out of this as well!

Us: So tell us, as we're here, why did you choose now to come back with more Plastic St?

Lou: Well, as you know, Dame Margaret Montgomery, who plays Granny Gold, has been in rehab, trying to cope with her sudden unexpected success. She was just plucked off the street you know, an obscure, everyday granny -

Us: Ahem. We already revealed in a previous interview that that was a publicity stunt.

Lou: All right, Dame Maggie wanted more cash. Okay? I've had to remortgage my house. But now we're back. The grasping old hag.

Us: Did anyone else have a pay rise? I always thought the vet should have had a bit more to do. He's in the opening credits, after all.

Lou: Yes, but they were filmed when we still had a budget.

Us: So there'll be no special effects this season, then?

Lou: Not quite, but watch out for explosions, special guest stars and... the hand of God!

Us: God? Doesn't He count as a special guest star?

Lou: Not according to Granny Gold's contract.

Us: Fair play.

Halt those ducking stools, the rumours are true! Come back soon for the first of the new episodes, Plastic fans!

Granny Gold is Wilting

Poor old Granny Gold is suffering in this heat, so she has asked me to stop filming for a while until she recovers. The daft old ham. But don't be glum, Plastic St fans. You can always look back at the previous gripping episodes to refamiliarise yourself with the deviously twisted plotlines, or just sit back and listen to the theme tune. Altogether now: "Let's creep / To the windows of Plastic St..."

Episode 18 - Better the Devil

Brandon looked at Ray, prostrate on the floor, and Mary, cooing over the view, and sighed. The plan wasn't going quite as... well, planned. Ray and Mary were at this very moment supposed to be shinning down the cliffside in search of Grandad Gold, preferably slipping and breaking their necks, saving him and Granny Gold the trouble of murdering them.

He was just about to rouse them into action with a convincing wail of despair when someone grabbed him by the shoulders. He span round, avoiding toppling off the edge of the abyss by the narrowest of margins.

"Dad! What are you doing here?"

There was urgency in Richard's face. Urgency, doubt and despair. And a little bit of gravy left from lunchtime. "Brandon, we must play a game of tennis."

"Now? Only I was in the middle of doing Granny a big favour."

Richard gave Brandon a shake. "Now. I have to be sure of something. And this is the only way."

Brandon took a step back, flailed for a moment, then took a step sideways instead. "And I have to be sure of something as well. So you'll have to wait."

"I can't wait! We have to play tennis! Now!"

The noise woke Mary from her revery. "Apparently Grandad Gold has fallen down the abyss," she said lightly.

"My god!" Richard sunk to his knees. "What are we to do?"

"I thought we'd just pop down there and rescue him," said Mary. "Ray?"

"There is nothing out there! Nothing!" groaned Ray. He scrambled to his feet and looked down. "Hang on, there is something down there."

"Hello!" piped up Grandad Gold. He looked very small, standing at the bottom all by himself. "I went off for a little toddle but didn't end up anywhere, so I decided to come back. Better the devil you know, eh? Could anyone give me a hand?"

Episode 17 - A Mother's Love

"I hope Dad's okay," Richard mused, as he stood next to Wendy watching Anita push Amy and Abigail on the roundabout. It didn't seem five minutes since they were at the park - in fact, it was about five minutes. He knew they had a home somewhere; they just never seemed to get to it. He had an image in his mind: a large, whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof and foxgloves growing wild in the front garden. Glancing round at the sea of plastic that faced him wherever he turned, the image suddenly seemed unlikely, but that was his house, he was certain of it.

Wendy put a comforting hand on his arm. "I know. I think he's going... you know."

"To be murdered?"

"No! I was going to say going a bit ga-ga."

Richard sighed. "Maybe it was just my imagination. I know Mum's as mad as a gatepost, but surely even she wouldn't murder her own husband!" He rolled his eyes as if to ridicule his own ridiculous delusions. "Oh, and - talking of attempted murder - Brandon looked well, didn't he?"

"Richard, do you think we could ask him to come home now?" Wendy burst out. "It's been so long. I miss him!"

"Do you?" Richard said, surprised.

"The way he used to scowl at me if I happened to meet him on the landing. The death threat posters on his bedroom door." Wendy smiled fondly. "And the booby traps in his underwear drawer." She glanced at her hands. "All I have left are the scars."

Richard looked at her disbelievingly. Wendy was now close to tears.

"And the way he set fire to the girls' bedroom...!" she sobbed, suddenly losing control completely.

Richard grabbed her by the shoulders. "Doesn't that tell you something? Wendy? He set fire to their room! He was trying to kill them!"

"He was only trying to keep them warm! The radiator needed bleeding!"

Richard very rarely raised his voice in anger against his wife, but this time he did. "There is no way that child is coming back to live under what's left of my roof!"

"You're just jealous because he can play tennis better than you!" burst out Wendy. She clapped her hand to her mouth.

"What?"

"He... I... no, it's nothing. Forget it! Forget all about it!"

Wendy ran from the park, still clutching her mouth as though she could claw the words back inside it. Her mind flashed back to the Holiday Inn Express and Gordon - she'd insisted he wear his tennis kit and sweatband throughout. Could Richard have guessed her secret? Did that explain his irrational hatred of Brandon? And why had she mentioned tennis? Why, why? If Richard ever played a set against Brandon it would be obvious for all to see...

Episode 16 - The Rescue part 2

Note: due to artistic differences and knackered legs, the inanimate object which played 'clifftop' has resigned and been replaced by a new, differently coloured clifftop which Plastic St fans will agree can only enhance this superior soapblog experience.

Ray rushed to the door but Mary grabbed his arm.

"Don't go with him! It's a trick!" she hissed.

"A trick? What do you mean? Are you saying that Brandon is deliberately pretending his Grandad has had an accident so he can lure us to the edge of this... abyss place, and push us off?" Ray rolled his eyes at Brandon and laughed dismissively.

"I mean," said Mary, putting her hands on her hips, "that this is Brandon Gold, the lead guitarist from Gore Hell Vandals and our chief rival in the Plastic St Battle of the Bands! He's trying to distract me so I can't practice my jazz hands!"

Ray shook his head. "Hormones! Come on, son. Show us where the trouble is."

Brandon, still clutching his side in pain, looked past Ray and Mary into the house. "I'll need at least four people to help," he said.

"Well, there's only the children..." Ray said doubtfully.

"They'll do!"

"I'm sorry, but Farmer Fun and the Funtime Furry Friends is on in five minutes," Mary said firmly. "There's no way Tom will leave the house."

Brandon's face darkened. "I can persuade him."

"I think we'd better get to your Grandad and not waste any more time," said Ray. "If we need extra help, Mary can get the rest of Uterus."

"But -" began Brandon.

Ray hustled them through the doorway. "Lead the way, Brandon my boy! I must say," he added to Mary as they walked through Plastic St on to a road he'd never taken before, "life is getting very exciting. I admit I've been a bit... down recently. Felt a bit lost. I imagined myself at the end of a road, facing a drop - all metaphorical, of course - whoooah!"

Ray looked down into the abyss.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Plastic St just ended, and then it was the end of the world.

His mind raced. They had moved here from somewhere so there had to be another place, another town. But where? Where had they come from? He had a vague memory of packing boxes, nothing more. He felt giddy and slid to the floor.

"My god... there's nothing out there..." he groaned.

Beside him Mary smiled. "What a lovely view. It makes me so happy to think we live in such a beautiful place. I think I want to stay here forever, don't you, Ray?"

Episode 15 - The Rescue

"Now push. Push!"

"I can't!"

"Yes you can, you're just not trying! Now breath!" Ray Plastic puffed rhythmically into his wife's face.

She reached up and slapped him. "For the last time, I am not in labour!"

Ray sat back on his heels, red in the face from exertion. "You had a show."

"No, I said I was going to be IN a show. The Battle of the Bands, remember? With Uterus, the menopausal girl group?"

"But you said you had a contraction!"

"No, I said we had a contract. Now give me a hand getting up off this floor."

With difficulty Ray pulled Mary to a vertical position. "So you're just going to go ahead with this, are you?"

"Didn't you hear what I said, Ray? We have a contract. We're going to be famous. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Ray shrugged. He didn't really have a concept of fame. The only person who seemed to be well known around Plastic St was Granny Gold, and that was because people just didn't like her. It was more a sort of infamy, really. Of course there were the newsreaders as well, those vague head and shoulders that popped up on the television reading exactly the same news report day after day. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember what the news report actually was, which was rather odd as it never changed.

Quickly he sat down in the armchair on a button which automatically activated the television. The tinny theme music blared out.

"What...?" began Mary, but Ray hushed her.

"The news!" he hissed.

After a few seconds the television switched itself off. The news was over.

Ray shook his head. "Nope. I've still got no idea what they're on about."

"Ray, look at me. Look at me. What do you see?" demanded Mary.

Ray turned round and looked at his wife. "I see a..." He peered at her stomach. "Is that your belly button? It looks like a gear stick!"

Mary's face crumpled. "Well, the record company see a star, and that's what I'm going to be. With or without your support." She waddled off towards the front door.

"Wait! Mary! You can't! I'm sure I glimpsed the head while I was down there! Mary, come back!"

Mary put her hand on the door and looked back at him. She opened her mouth to say something.

The door swung open.

"Mr Plastic! Come quick!" Brandon stood panting on the doorstep with a wild look in his eyes. His hair stood on end and he clutched his side as though in pain. "Grandad's fallen down the abyss!"

Episode 14 - Brandon Takes a Beating

"And so it begins," said Granny Gold, exhaling deeply. A look of intense relief passed across her face.

"Eurgh, no - you haven't..." began Brandon.

"I was talking about my evil plan, not my evil bladder!" snapped Granny Gold. She took a sip of her tea. "I have set the bait. The rest is up to you now."

"Fine. Anything to get out of this schoolhouse," muttered Brandon. He hated sleeping at the school. Even worse, tomorrow it was time to let another family have a turn. He would be walking the streets or trying to sneak into the hospital. Granny was right: why should the Plastic family have the only house in the street?

"I want you to run up to the Plastic house and call for help. They'll all come running - they're that sort of people." Granny Gold looked disgusted. "Tell them your poor doddery old Grandad has fallen down the abyss. You must lead them there. They'll be sure to attempt a rescue - a rescue that is bound to go disastrously wrong."

"Okay," Brandon shrugged. "By the way, where is Grandad? Have you hidden him out of the way so it won't spoil the plan?"

"Something like that. I think it's called killing two birds with one stone. It's definitely called killing, anyway. Oh, wait a minute, Brandon." Granny stopped Brandon at the door. She tripped him up and kicked him a few times in the ribs.

"What was that for?" Brandon yelped.

"Firstly, because I enjoy it, and secondly because you need to look battered and bruised. You've been trying to help your Grandad and are injured."

"Right," gasped Brandon.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the..."

"The what?"

Granny pulled a face. "Too late. Now go, go, go!"

Brandon slowly shuffled out of the door, clutching his side. He had to admit it, Granny Gold was a genius.

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!