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!

Episode 8 - Granny Gold Gets Evil

"Well?" demanded Granny Gold. Her small black eyes glittered malevolently inside the yellow spectacles. "Did you succeed in plunging the Plastic family into a deep depression causing them to leave their home vacant in a way which would only suit an evil elderly woman and her spare part of a husband?"

"I am listening, you know," Grandad Gold said mildly.

"Er..." Brandon played for time. He was a good liar, under normal circumstances. But nobody could lie to Granny Gold. She seemed to see into your soul somehow. He bounced the football under his foot a few times.

"Leave it!" shrieked Granny Gold. "You didn't, did you?"

"I did help Mary Plastic to make friends with the Uterus girls and I convinced Ray Plastic that life was worth living," blurted out Brandon, cursing himself for having to tell Granny Gold the truth. "But I didn't mean to!"

Granny Gold grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. "Do you know, Brandon, I thought I saw something in you once. A spark. I thought I saw a glimpse of myself at a young age, the little girl who pulled the wings off flies. But it appears I was mistaken."

"No, no you weren't mistaken! I can pull the wings off flies!" Brandon said desperately. "I just need to find one..."

"Silence!" cried Granny Gold. "Don't be ridiculous. We have gone beyond flies. Far, far beyond."

"What about daddy long legs?" Grandad Gold suggested.

Granny Gold ignored him. "I'm sending you back out there," she hissed at Brandon. "And this time you're going to send that pathetic Ray Plastic completely round the twist."

"Like me?" Grandad Gold suggested. I'm full of ideas today, he thought proudly to himself.

"Oh, worse than you. Brandon is going to show Ray Plastic the edge of the world, aren't you, Brandon?"

At that moment a burst of dramatically evil music filled the room.

"Sorry," said Grandad Gold. "My mobile."

He put his hand in his pocket to answer it. Granny Gold snatched the phone and threw it across the room where it shattered on the floor.

"As I was saying. The edge of the world, Brandon."

"But... I don't know where the edge of the world is," stuttered Brandon.

"Then let me take you there," said Granny Gold. She paused a moment. This time there was no spooky music. She glared expectantly at Brandon.

"Dah - dah - dah!" sung Brandon unhappily.

An Interview with Rufus Wright-Carter

Lou Treleaven meets the actor who plays Ray Plastic on his private island in Fiji.

Rufus, you're primarily known as a stage actor. What attracted you to a part in a long-running TV soap, and how does this fit into your career plan?

Well, Lou, not many people know this, but when I was offered the park of Ray Plastic I initially turned it down!

No!

It's true! I was in the middle of a run of Judas - the Musical at the Geilgud, I had Romeo lined up and it just wasn't a good time for me.

Bit old for Romeo.

Pardon?

I said it's a bit cold for Romeo. Tights and... stuff. So - what happened to make you change your mind?

Well, Judas closed early, Romeo & Juliet was banned on obscenity charges and... it was like someone wanted me to do this part.

The casting director?

No, someone higher.

The executive producer?

No, higher than that. This part - it was meant for me. Here is a man who finds himself in a plastic world. Is it real? Is he real? How come he can never change his clothes or put down his newspaper? Ray Plastic is me.

I'm sorry to hear that.

I'm talking metaphorically. Do you know what that means, Lou? It's like, when you compare something to something else. No, that's a simile.

"Juliet is the sun."

Who?

You did say you were going to play Romeo?

It was a modern interpretation expressed through the medium of Irish dance.

Right. No wonder it was banned.

What did you say?

I said, wonderful band. For the lovely Irish music. Thank you, Rufus. I'll let you get back to your luxurious celebrity lifestyle.

Thanks.

Episode 7 - Uterus begin rehearsals

Brandon shook his head as Tom and Sara skipped off to the playground. They had invited him to join them but he just couldn't bear their company one minute longer. Farmer Fun and the Funtime Furry Friends? He spat on the pavement in disgust.

Glancing up, he saw a rather insipid looking man walking towards him, a grown up version of Tom. He lowered his head expecting to be admonished, but the man stared through him vacantly.

Brandon spat again. If there was one thing he hated, it was being ignored.

The man sighed. "What does it all mean, eh? What's going on? Why are we here?"

Brandon looked at the man in disgust. He was clearly insane. "You're Tom and Sara's dad, right?" he said.

"Right..." replied the man. He nodded, first rather doubtfully then with increasing enthusiasm. "You're right. I'm a dad, a father. I'm Ray Plastic. I have a place in this world, if not for me then for my children." He took Brandon's hand and shook it. "Thank you, thank you. You have the wisdom of youth and the... the..." He looked Brandon up and down. "The acne of truth. Come inside. My home is your home."

Brandon struggled in vain as Ray steered him into the house. They were met by a vocal assault that sounded like three dogs locked in a shed within smelling distance of a steak sandwich.

"That's beautiful, darling," Ray enthused. "My wife and her new friends," he explained to Brandon. "They're rehearsing." Mary, Joss and Joss's sister Wendy were dancing round the room and clicking their fingers. Sweat dripped from their foreheads.

Brandon threw himself into the chair as Uterus began another number.

"I'm gonna have a hot flush, baby this evening,
Gonna have a hot flush, baby tonight!"

"Cool," said Brandon. Mary Plastic was slotting into the community far too easily, he frowned to himself. "Someone's out of tune," he said. "You, the fat blonde one."

Mary looked distraught. Brandon smirked to himself.

"Let's try again, darling," said Joss firmly. "And this time, listen to me."

Uterus sang again. Suddenly the dogs in the shed were gone. Three larks flew through the sky, warbling joyously.

"That was fantastic!" breathed Wendy when they'd finished. "Well done, Mary. And thanks, Brandon. You've really made a difference. I think we've got a chance of winning Battle of the Bands after all, girls!"

Brandon slunk out, cursing. What had he done?

"And Brandon?" Ray called from the front door.

Brandon turned around, scowling.

"Thanks for the advice earlier. You've really changed my outlook. I think we're going to be happy here after all."

Brandon swore violently.

Episode 6 - Brandon Begins

Brandon obeyed Granny Gold and ambled over to the Plastic family home. It wasn't hard to find. The place stood out a mile. Gran was right - why did these newcomers get to move straight into the best place in Plastic St while the rest of them were forced to stand about like spare parts? Something was wrong, and he was going to put it right. Even if it did mean co-operating with a daft old bat with a power fixation and a weak bladder.

There they were now, coming out of the house. Two pathetic little kids, a boy with a train and a girl hugging a toy mouse.

"Hi," he said, walking up to the boy nonchalantly. "Like your train."

"It's... it's mine," the boy blurted out.

"I'm Sara and this is my brother Tom," the girl said, coming forward shyly.

"Sara, eh?" Brandon sidled over to the girl. The boy was a wet fish. Maybe he would have better luck with the sister. "What year are you in, Sara?"

"Eleven."

"This must be fate! You'll be in my class. I'll save you a seat by me, right at the back. I hope you don't mind sitting at the back, Sara, where nobody can see us."

"I-I'm Year Eleven too," said Tom.

"No kidding! You're twins, right?"

"Er, no," said Sara doubtfully.

"But you're the same age. And you're related." Brandon thought back to his biology lessons, which he had spent drawing rude diagrams in the sanitised text book, 'The Adventures of Mr Sausage'. "You must be twins!"

"Well, we've always been the same height, and we turned up at the same time... I don't know, we're just The Children," Sara concluded uncertainly.

"Okay... well, let's get to know each other. What are your favourite bands, Tom?"

Tom clutched his train tighter. "Bands?"

"Yes, you know. Rock, pop, dance, speed-death-thrash metal... Who d'you like? Do you like Rancid Armpit?"

"Who?"

"You haven't heard of the Armpit?"

Tom shook his head.

"Okay - Chainsaw Death Monkeys. You must have heard of them. No? Satan's Entrails? Acid Facewash? Sado Nun Attack?"

Tom looked increasingly blank.

Brandon sighed wearily. "Go on, then. Who do you like?"

"Farmer Fun and the Funtime Furry Friends," said Tom, his face brightening. "It's on at half past four every day on the Baby Boogie Channel."

Episode 5 - On the Edge

Ray left Mary and Joss discussing song lyrics for Uterus ("I've put been on HRT, find out what it means to me!") and wandered outside. He wondered whether anybody else was having trouble adjusting to the move. Mary just seemed to be carrying on as blissfully as usual, her ripe stomach and saintly smile reminding Ray of a school nativity. He had played a sheep, of course. Mary had been there then, too, gliding along beside him as though reminding him by her constant presence that they were destined to be together. He remembered flicking a rubber at her in English, or had it been History? The rest of their courtship and young adulthood was just a fuzzy feeling of comfortable romance: holding hands in the park, holding hands in the cinema, and finally holding hands in the church. Other than those vague memories, there was just the bright colours of childhood and now, the present. It was as though someone had thrown him here and planted a vaguely happy past in his head to give him some sort of back story.

All of a sudden he felt like he was standing on the edge of a road, a road that stretched out from his house for ever and ever (seemingly), until suddenly it stopped, leaving him teetering on the brink of an empty space.

He put his hand to his head to steady the vertigo that had attacked him for the second time that day. It was rather difficult as he was still carrying a newspaper and briefcase, plus a strange blue cloth that suggested a coat although it had no sleeves or buttons. It seemed he was ready for work, but where did he work? In an office, presumably. He racked his brains and eventually came up with a fuzzy picture of a row of computers with screens around them like pigpens. There was a secretary called Trisha and a boss called Simon. Even the names made him yawn. They were predictable. His job, he was beginning to remember, was predictable. He supposed he should go back, go through the motions of unpacking, moan harmlessly about his job and pat his wife's smooth, round bump.

He looked for the edge of the road, the edge of the precipice, and felt a surprising jolt of disappointment that there was nothing of the sort after all.