There's Something That Doesn't Make Sense. Let's

I Write The Kind Of Stuff I'd Like To Watch.

The Doctor: Oh, Now What's This, Then? I Love This. A Big, Flashy-lighty Thing. That's What Brought Me Here. Big, Flashy-lighty Things Have Got Me Written All Over Them. Not Actually, But Give Me Time... And A Crayon.

My Problem Is That The Audience Is More Fiction-literate Than Ever. In Shakespeare's Day, You Probably Expected To See A Play Once Or Twice In Your Life; Today You Experience Four Or Five Different Kinds Of Fiction Every Day. So Staying Ahead Of The Audience Is Impossible.

I Wouldn't Mind Removing All The Mistakes I Have Made. That Would Be Exhausting And Take Forever. Honestly, It's One Of The Spells Of My Life That Has Been The Most Perfect. Not Because I Did The Job Perfectly, Because Of Course I Did It Very Imperfectly, But Because I Enjoyed It So Much. What Would I Change? I Complain A Lot. I Whinge, I More Or Less Communicate In Levels Of Complaint So I Wish Sometimes I Didn't Just Spend All My Time Saying, 'i'm Working So Hard, What Do I Get In Return For This?'.

You Don't Want To Take Over The Universe. You Wouldn't Know What To Do With It Beyond Shout At It.