How To Fail With Elizabeth Day - Russell T Davies - On Dr Who, Grief and Gay Representation on TV

Episode Date: September 30, 2026

Russell T Davies has spent decades creating some of Britain’s most beloved and groundbreaking television. After studying English at Oxford, he went from writing for children’s programmes and Coronation Street to creating Queer As Folk in 1999 - a show that changed the conversation around gay representation on TV. Since then, he’s written hit after hit, from Bob & Rose and A Very English Scandal to Years and Years, It’s A Sin and his hugely successful revival of Doctor Who. He’s won four BAFTAs and was awarded an OBE in 2008. In this episode we talk about where his obsession and passion for TV came from, how his exceptionally busy mind works, losing his husband to a brain tumour, his love of Dr Who and…finding love again. His new memoir, The Queerest of Folk, is out on 8th October. IN THIS EPISODE: 00:00 Intro 02:35 TV Obsession Origins 03:24 Memoir and Andrew 08:35 AIDS and Its a Sin 10:36 Queer as Folk Shockwaves 12:37 Failure to Drive 16:45 Writing in Images 28:05 Early Illustration Gigs 28:54 Obsessed With Drawing 30:20 Losing the Habit 31:52 Comics and Story Beats 33:54 Writing Geniuses Doctor Who 37:13 Staying a Fan 41:41 Legacy and Family Roots 49:59 Aging Love and Goodbye 💬 QUOTES TO REMEMBER: When I dream I invent people who don’t exist. I’ve saved for decades, I saved for a rainy day, and then one day it rained. Please never get rid of the Tardis. 🔗 LINKS + MENTIONS: Russell’s memoir, The Queerest Of Folk is available to buy now: uk.bookshop.org/p/books/the-queerest-of-folk-a-life-in-television-russell-t-davies/a290496f474a1f8c Join the How To Fail community: www.howtofail.supportingcast.fm/#content Elizabeth’s Substack: www.theelizabethday.substack.com 📚 WANT MORE? Phoebe Waller-Bridge - swap.fm/l/gTCOCJUmXX9t22mTABSa Bernardine Evaristo - swap.fm/l/EH5cvO3uPdNCQN9tYyiJ 💌 LOVE THIS EPISODE? Subscribe on Spotify, Apple or wherever you get your podcasts Leave a 5⭐ review – it helps more people discover these stories 👋 Follow How To Fail & Elizabeth: Instagram: @elizabday TikTok: @howtofailpod Podcast Instagram: @howtofailpod Website: www.elizabethday.org Elizabeth and Russell answer listener questions in our subscriber series, Failing with Friends. Join our community of subscribers here: https://lnk.to/7i0moR Have a failure you’re trying to work through for Elizabeth to discuss? Click here to get in touch: askhowtofail.com Production & Post Production Coordinator: Eric Ryan Engineer: Matias Torres Assistant Producer: Shania Manderson Senior Producer: Hannah Talbot Executive Producer: Alex Lawless How to Fail is an Elizabeth Day and Sony Music Entertainment Production. Find more great podcasts from Sony Music Entertainment at sonymusic.com/podcasts To bring your brand to life in this podcast, email [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

And if you look at my stuff, look, my stuff breaks down into Doctor Who and gay. And really, that's all I've done. It's quite right that I don't drive. I would murder people. I basically have never left the pram. I always save for a rainy day and then one day it rain. How to Fail is brought to you by Alar Lacto-free. Delicious Dairy with all the taste, easier to digest.

Welcome to How to Fail with me, Elizabeth Day. This is the podcast that treats all failure as a learning opportunity. Before we get into this episode, please do remember to like, follow, and subscribe to ensure that you never miss a single conversation. Some evil thing happened here. Three people die in a quiet suburb, in the same house, years apart. It's not a coincidence. This wasn't ghosts and goblins, okay, these were murders.

From Sony Music Entertainment, this is what happened to the Harrisons. Start listening today, wherever you get your podcasts. Subscribers to The Binge can listen to. all episodes, all at once, ad-free. Hello, I'm Simon Mayo. And I'm Mark Kermode. What a great episode we have for you lined up. Mark, what are you doing on the latest take?

It's a pack show. We have reviews of Heart of the Beast, Brad Pitt and a dog, her private hell, the new film from Nick Winding Refen, a boorman and the devil, a documentary about the worst film ever made, and sense and sensibility with our super special guest. Gorgeous George Bukai, don't miss a single second of the latest take. Russell T. Davis was born and raised in Swansea, the child of two classics teachers. His home was filled with talk of myths and heroes and the downfall of civilisations. Themes he has made central in his work as one of the UK's foremost TV writers and showrunners.

Davis read English at Oxford and started out on youth programmes before writing for Coronation Street. And in 1999, blazing onto the scene with queer as far. The groundbreaking show, with its frank depictions of gay sex, garnered controversy and popularity in equal measure, attracting 3.5 million viewers per episode. From there, Davis wrote hit after hit. Bob and Rose, a very English scandal, years and years, It's a Sin, and of course, a wildly successful revival of the long-running BBC show, Doctor Who. He was awarded an OBE in 2008, has been nominated for countless baffirms.

and has won fall. His work is perhaps best described as radical with a giant beating heart. In his new memoir, the queerest of folk, Davis himself compares it to battling through fog and soup and sewage, which might lead to a million dead ends. But maybe his fellow writer, Frank Cotrell-Boyce, put it best. When asked what his greatest contribution was to British TV drama, Cottsle Boyce answered simply, saving it from extinction. Russell T. Davis, welcome to How to Fail. Thank you for that good old Frank. And a good old Frank.

Checks in the post. Lovely man, really wonderful man. It was an education and a joy reading your book. Oh, thank you. Because I love TV almost as much as you do. Almost. And not only have you written so much of the TV that has shaped our last few decades, but you love consuming it.

Yes. What is it about TV? To this day. The other day, my boyfriend never watches TV. He's all clips and streaming with him. And the other day, I made him sit down and watch the afternoon quizzes on ITV, like tipping point. And then the chase, by the end, he was completely sold. Good.

He loved the chase. He was completely devoted to it. He's like going, that's one of the best afternoons I've had in ages. So it still works. Yes, thank you. Thank you for educating him, quite frankly. What was your earliest memory of television? It's literally Doctor Who.

I hate to be obvious. But you can look up the data. I was three years old and William Hartnell regenerated into Patrick Trouton, the first doctor, into the second doctor. I remember that. And it's missing from the archives. If you could take a little wire and download my memory onto the screen,

we'd recover a lost episode. I genuinely remember it. I was terrified. Absolutely terrified. What was the experience of writing a book like rather than a TV? Kind of lovely. I mean, I like writing full stop. I love the fact it's called a memoir.

I found that very posh. A memoir. I thought memoirs were written like in Parisian attics with a quill and I'd be dying of consumption. It's a memoir. That makes me laugh. I never called it that. The publishers call it that. I was a memoir. I thought it was just me really. For example, there's a lot about my husband in there, my lovely husband who passed away eight years ago this month. And it's nice to kind of bring him back to life and memorialise him and kind of enshrine him. He'd be laughing so much at the thought that he was in a book anywhere in print. So yeah, I'm really happy to do that. Your late husband, Andrew, I found those chapters so extraordinarily moving to read. Oh, thank you. I'm so sorry for your loss, and I hadn't realised it was a month, this month, eight years ago. Weirdly. It's September's always very strange for me because he'd been ill for years,

but he started being specifically ill on the 29th of August, about the 29th of September he was dead. The month literally went like that. So every September is strange for me. I can literally remember the gradations of his illness going down and down and down and down. So, yeah, it's forever written into September that. How do you cope with that muscle memory? Oh, I like remembering it. I'm glad that I'm happy to remember.

If I went through September without thinking about it, I think that was rather odd. And sometimes you do. You miss a day. You go, oh, that was the day you went in the hospital. And I kind of berate myself for missing things. So I'm always happy to think of them. I think it's like I don't find that. painful. I've made it natural.

Yes. He died of a specific brain tumour. Yeah, glioblastoma multiforme. Yeah. I'm so glad you said it and I didn't have to. Long words, yeah. And we'll perhaps talk a bit more about it later but he was given this prognosis which he didn't want to know his prognosis.

No, never asked. He never knew how long he had but you look at the statistics he had about 18 months to live and he lived for eight years. And sometimes I wonder if he lived for eight years because he never had a prognosis. He was never expecting to die, which I don't like to give that out as advice. It's like that's how it worked for him. If you might be suffering out there from that or know people with it, everyone's different. Maybe for some people knowing the prognosis, helps them, helps them put their life in order.

But for him, I think, I mean, there were many, many times those eight years where we'd end up in casualty at four in the morning and he'd have the worst headache or be throwing up. And he never went into hospital thinking this could be it. This is it. He'd just think, oh, this is annoying. I'm in real pain. I've got to fix this. So maybe that. helped. How is it with your boyfriend now? Yeah. Do you talk about Andrew with him? All the time. My lovely boyfriend, Oliver is completely respectful. And when I make him sit and watch the chase, I'm like, Andrew love this, watch this. Like that all the time, nonstop. And there's still, I still sit there going, oh God, there's a million stories, a million anecdotes. And anything in

my house will remind me of something that happened on and on ago. He hasn't complained yet. Okay. You cared for Andrew during those eight years and you've described yourself in various ways as sort of addicted to work and TV. During that time you did less, but you produced two of my favourite shows of yours. You wrote, It's a Sin or it got made and years and years.

Both of them astonishing and both of them dark as well as being warm and wonderful and the classic Russell T. Davis mix. Yeah, yeah, yeah. When you think about those shows now, do you feel, gosh, that's really ammeshed with what was going on in my life? I wonder, I mean, you're getting old anyway.

When you put it like that, I kind of think my work has taken a darker turn. Ending with Tiptoe recently, which is the darkest thing in the world. And maybe that's part of it. Maybe that his illness and death has darkened me, but I'm getting older anyway. God, I could sit here and talk for three hours

about my arthritis. That's the real bastard thing. So maybe that's aging or maybe that's maturing or maybe I think there's more of a happiness in my stuff that's maybe slightly fading but maybe that's just being 63 I don't know It's a sin in particular you write in the book about how it's taken a lifetime for you to be ready to write that

Why? It's funny when I look at the book now What I hadn't realised was when I come to write something How long it's been sitting waiting in my mind I wasn't aware of that, except as I wrote chapter after chapter, I thought of this 20 years before I wrote here. And that's a constant theme. I go, wow, I didn't know that. And there still is that store of ideas waiting.

I once read somewhere, I once read this great saying that said, you will have every idea you will ever have before the age of 16. And you spend the rest of your life coming to terms with that. Now, whether that's true or not, it doesn't matter. It's interesting. Yes, it's very interesting. And if you look at my stuff, look, my stuff breaks down into Doctor Who and Gay. And really, that's all I've done. And that's all there before I was 16.

That was there ticking away. All I've done is like, right, different versions of that ever since. So maybe there's something in that. It's a sin in particular because you were tackling the AIDS crisis. And there was a moment in your memoir, the Queerists of Folk, where you quote a friend of yours. And it was, gosh, it was such a strong quote. I actually sent it to a friend of mine who'd lived through the same period.

Which one? It was about how. you sent your friends back home to die. In their childhood bedrooms while their parents kept them hidden from the neighbours. I mean, I wrote five-hour drama and I could have just done that one sentence, actually. What an astonishing time.

And that lived with me for 40 years. I mean, the thing about it's a sin was that when the age crisis came along. I fit that age. I was 18 in 1981. I was leaving home in 1981 when that virus first appeared in Britain. And I've lived through that crisis

and I've lived through the prep and the invention of medication and now the astonishing world we have now where you can just take a pill a day and be completely fine where untransmitable. Undetectable means untransmitable, etc. I mean, what a story. And I had to address the Manchester Vigil the other day which is a very sad occasion

where we remember all those we've lost and all those who fought. But actually also the story of HIV and AIDS is one of the greatest successes in medical history because, and there's still no cure, but it's being beaten. And that was initially led by the public, by the community, by when the government wasn't paying attention, when the NHS wasn't paying enough attention at the beginning,

it was literally a community uprising of people who came together and raised money and demanded research and demanded medicine and demanded better conditions. It's an astonishing thing to read. Along like we recently had the COVID vaccine, the creation of that was an astonishing success, but was piggybacking on. a lot of what had been learned throughout the HIV years.

So it's a tragic story. It's not only a tragic story. That's what I love about it. Yes. That's a great metaphor for so much of your work, really. I suppose, yeah. Queer as folk. Now, until I read...

Phil. Phil. There was no seamless link to rimming. But I want to talk about the rimming scene. I know. My career comes down to this in the end. Hello. Welcome, everyone.

I had forgotten that it was 1999. Yes. Yeah, yeah, yeah, long time ago now. When they were discussing in the House of Lords luring the age of consent. Yes. What a primitive world that was. Unbelievable.

And Section 28 was still there then. Yes. Yeah, yeah, amazing. And you wrote a rimming scene. Did you tell us about writing the rimming scene. And whether you thought, gosh, this is it. I don't know whether this is going to get. I think a lot of us thought a lot of queerest folk would never get broadcast.

At the same time, that's not true. Two things are true simultaneously. And also, Channel 4 exists to show that. kind of stuff and still has supported me for many men for decades now. So it felt like the right thing to do, but I remember very specifically thinking

I wanted something that was outside Nathan's imagination, because as a young gay boy completely closeted and silent, he would have been fantasising about all sorts of things. He would have been masturbating over all sorts of things and he would have had ideals and wishes and hopes

and dreams. And I don't think that would have been in his imagination. I needed something absolutely. absolutely new to happen to him that night. And literally bear in mind the lack of access to porn in those days. What a simple world that was. And now, of course, it beamed into the brains of eight-year-olds. It's rotting our society right at the heart. But then it was precious and strange and belonged in London only in the back streets of London.

So it needed something absolutely new and revolutionary and brilliant to happen to Nathan that night. to just confirm and make him joyous and say yes, you're on the right path now. And I wanted that to be a physical eye. I didn't want to be people talking. He was saying, hey, be gay, glad to come out. It's like I needed an explosion in his head. And that's what that was. Your first failure is your failure to learn how to drive.

Yes, to this day. Also, I've saved many people's lives. So this is not a failure. It's a lifesaver. I can't and it terrifies me. To this day, I sit in a car, you can drive, I bet. I sit there thinking you're a genius. You're a genius driving that thing.

How you do it? It's quite right that I don't drive. I would murder people. On my last, I said three tests. On my last test, right, you're at a junction. Is that what it's called? The things, roads, and I'm at the wheel. So I'm like a crossroads and I want to turn right, says the instructor.

So there's oncoming traffic On the test I turned into the oncoming traffic All the incoming traffic had to stop while I turned right And I thought that was right That's what I'd be like as a driver Okay I actually thought that was right Because even on a test I was kind of distracted

And not taking it seriously Or thinking I was king of the road or so Yes, this is my right away Thank you very much That when at the end of that test he said I'm sorry you fail I'm not quite right too Yes absolutely no complaints here

That was my third test and I got worse with every test and at that point I came in out thinking right so I must have been about 25 or something 24 and I came out of that test thinking right now you've got to earn enough money to get taxis for the rest of your life and that's what I've done

that's the motivation that's what I've done honestly it's like and I swear it's like there must be five or six occasions in my life where I've really stood the God I wish I could drive now but I think every driver has five or six occasions in their life where their car's broken down. Where they wish the same thing.

So I think I've kind of levelled out along the way. I think the money levels out. I haven't had to buy a car, all those taxi fares. And I love a black cab. They're dying now. Won't get Uber. Absolutely refuse. Union breaking bastards.

Can't bear them. Won't allow them in my phone even. Won't even have to give me a black cab. Totally with you. Why do you think you're such a bad driver? You mentioned they're being distracted. And I wonder if there's part of you that is so interested in other people

that you're constantly looking at the window. That is part of it looking at oh that look at that God help you there's a sexy man on the pavement

I'm like yeah like that also I was terrified of it absolutely terrified I think because I knew what a bad driver I was

and for me a lesson was like a test you know people scared before their test I was like that before every lesson I took no joy

in sitting there I was never happy I never felt right honestly I hate it I hate it to this day Do you find it easy to trust other people who are driving you? Oh, I don't, yes, I don't think about it.

Yes, I'm like, I basically have never left the pram. This is what I've done. I've just had a life where I get taken everywhere. That's good for me. Thank you very much. What a lovely day. Because you also said you don't ride a bicycle. No, I've never rid of a bike.

It's like, no, I tried someone else's his bike. I fell off once in a real coward. I am six foot six. It's a long way to fall. It's indirect that you're not a coward in your work. You definitely sort of push things and take risks. No, that's true. I'm not going to break my elbow doing it, though.

I'll go head first at the windscreen. Not yet. It's like no physical danger. It's quite, is it timid? I don't seem timid, do I? No. And yet I am when it comes to, if you put me, if you did a test and put me around a wheel now, that's when you'd seem me as timid.

I bet, oh my God, oh my God. What, you press on these things with your feet? I can't believe it all works. The gear? Oh my God. No, no. No, no. It's terrifying.

I totally get you. I find it deeply rational to be terrified. of driving, even though I do drive. Yeah. I have to make a conscious, I find it easier when I'm driving on my own because I don't have the responsibility of passengers. Right. I have to make a conscious effort not to imagine a worst case scenario, which is like a terrible

motorway pile up. Yeah. And I can see that image creeping into my head and I have to replace it with a positive image and me arriving somewhere. So you actually think that. Yes. Oh, my God. Wow.

Well, I'm allowed on the roads. I've never driven down a motorway. So that's never ever done there. There we go. Never ever done it. And thank God I'd be. oh no, I'd be dangerous. Talking of imagery, you write in your book about how you write,

how you write TV scripts, and how you often start with an image, and there's a man and woman sitting there, and she's furious with him. Yes. And that pops into your mind and then you have to explore it. Can you tell us a little bit more about you all? Or it's funny writing. It's like all day, every day I'm turning things into dialogue, and I've typed so much that actually I see it in chunks of dialogue.

I can hear you talking and it's chunks. Then I reply like this. And then I start to invent, I mean, I'm thinking about what I'm saying now. But if we're out there chatting, I'm kind of absorbing everyone, and I'm turning it into dialogue. And I'm literally imagining imaginary people all the time in my head, not just when I'm sitting at my desk, not just when I'm going to sleep. Night and day, there were people popping up. And if someone out there had said a funny line about Christmas, I'd allocate that to someone in my head.

Oh, right, she could say that, that woman. And I don't even know who she is. And maybe 20 years later, I'll find a place for that line. I literally sometimes find myself writing lines that I've thought of to say for years. I'm not just thought of the lines as a piece of, like a sentence in my head, but someone saying it, it's a bit mad, isn't it? It's like ghost images in my head. They're not even ghostly.

They're not real people. I think the most interesting thing in the world that we never talk about is that when we dream, we invent people. Yes. Do you do that? It's like I invent people in absolute detail who don't exist.

How do we do that? Why do we do that? Why not? I can see people in my dreams with freckles and hair and their clothes and everything

and then they're gone. And so I'm slightly like that waking as well. It's more vague the image. Oh God, I just sound nuts now. You don't at all. You don't. And if it's an argument,

oh my God, I'll be walking around my house doing the washing up or watching the telly or going up and downstairs and two people can be having an argument in my head completely unconnected to any script I'm writing I don't mean it's a script I mean it's like they're arguing

you hear something on the radio the radio will say it's foggy today or something and then two people will start playing that like table tennis in my head it's foggy today well you can't go then can you what do you think I'm going where are you going and off they go and sometimes that sounds like nonsense

but sometimes you get to a good line that way. Well, I'm going because blah, blah, oh, good line. And that gets kind of stored as a little treasure in my head then. It's fascinating. It's non-stop. It's almost like you're a medium. I'm very clearly a lot. Like the other rustle.

But it's almost like you're picking up on some kind of collective consciousness. It is, except there's no such thing. And, you know, it's like, don't get religious with me now. No such thing. But it's like, it is weird and it's also, it's an enormous comfort as well. And it does mean that when I'm doing the script, the characters in the script do do that as well. They kind of march to the front. You mentioned in the book that Andrew, before he was diagnosed, would get headaches and then would sometimes get images of people, like a smiling ed, medium lady.

He would have that, it turned out to be a form of epilepsy. He would have, when we realised he was starting to become ill, maybe. I've got a form of epilepsy. He would see in his mind, not in real life, he would see in his mind, he would see an Edwardian lady smiling at him sarcastically and he would feel sick.

Can you imagine? He'd be like, and I'm absolutely going, what? I mean, as a man full of images in my head myself, I was like, what, what, what? And then it's funny because I went and did like, it was the feeling sick that was a worry. And then he'd get blinding headaches.

Do you think that's something strange going on here? I went to my little internet searches. And I just, used all the wrong words. I used images, hallucinations I typed, idetic images I typed, because I thought that was clever. And the only word I didn't use was seizures. If I typed in seizures, we'd have got to his diagnosis six months earlier. Because I thought seizures were your classic tonic, clonic fit and the stuff you see on casualty. Seizures can take any form. Seizures can take the form of seeing an Edwardian lady smiling you sarcastically. Isn't that weird?

It is. I never come across that. never had any idea. And then after his first operations, he had to take a lot of that epilepsy medication because it turned nasty as well. He starts seeing people like, there were just people in the garden trying to get into the windows. And it was like, what? And then even in a shower, he thought someone was standing behind him. That was the worst of his illness, actually, and very quickly.

And it was funny because like his regular doctor was away. So they sent to a psychologist who sat there saying, does the television never talk to you? And I was sitting there going, no, we think. It's not that. And you're supposed to shut up. In the sessions, I was that annoying husband going, shut up, like that. And I said, no, no, he's not going mad. He genuinely thinks there's someone in the shower with him.

When the right doctor came back, Dr. McBain, who was just brilliant, who just said, oh, that's a seizure. That's epilepsy. So she upped his epilepsy medication and they vanished. I mean, it was my most powerless thing. There isn't anyone there. But the nasty different shapes and forms that can take is like, wow. Andrew was a civil servant

So a different world, incredibly supportive of you in your career. Yes. You sound like you had a wonderful relationship. Oh, he's lovely. And I know that this is an impossibly large question, but I also know it will help so many people because there are so many people grieving at any given time. Yeah. How did you cope?

Are you coping with that loss and that grief? You just do, don't you? And what you realise is everyone does. I mean, actually find me someone without grief. They're going to be quite young. A friend of mine recently said, I've been to my first funeral. He was 40. I was like, where have you been?

What's happened to you? What little gilded cage have you been living in? It's extraordinary, is it? 40. It's like, what the hell? And I always kind of say to myself that the day after Hiroshima, everyone went to work. It's like the worst thing in the world happened. Everyone got up the next day and went to work because you've got to.

And you do. You say, I have no magic solutions to this. I wish Elizabeth I could sit here and say Ah, do this and think of that But there isn't a magic solution Other than the fact that you need to earn a wage You need to have your tea I remember when Andrew died

One of his friends said to me Don't forget to eat I was like, not a problem Really? What a stupid thing to say I'm not going to forget to eat Bless him, he was being very kind I mean maybe it helped that he was ill for eight years so I knew it was on its way

I don't think that's true Because it's still a surprise when it happens Even in the end He spent that final September going down and down and down still you wake up September the 30th to be dead that's shocking like you're not ready for that no matter what but I'm lucky

lovely family lovely friends I always think as I say in the book I go on a ridiculous amount about we could afford to be ill and that's a big I get paid very nicely in my job not only that but I save I've saved and saved and saved for years

for decades I always save for a rainy day and then one day it rained and in those We went to the Christie Hospital in Manchester for his treatment, which is one of Europe's biggest and best cancer hospitals, which we did. You sit at the Christie next to people who traveled miles to get there, who had come to Manchester and stayed overnight.

It was like a five-minute drive from our house. We were so lucky to have that place. But you realize the busiest door in that entire hospital is there's a door where they sort of people's benefits because people have been told you can't go back to work. You've got to have six months off work, got to have a year off work, you're never going back to work.

How are they going to be going to work? live, we never had that problem because I'd saved and saved and saved and saved. And he could have stayed ill for 10 years and we'd have been all right. So there's a comfort to that. And so everything you're talking about and being ready for losing him, we'd had the comfort and almost the elegance of being free to imagine that. And still it hits you like a brick. And still you carry on.

Because actually the truth is what I just described in my job, all those voices are they don't stop. My thinking didn't stop. Actually, after he died, a month after that, I delivered the last episode of years and years and years. Imagine the years and years production team. There must be good. God, like, what do?

Should we get someone else to write it? I don't think they ever quite told me what a crisis they went through because they were waiting for the last episode. And they were so lovely, they dedicated the entire show to him on the end on BBC One, which is a really lovely thing to do. But they must be good. What the hell do we do now? But of course I delivered it.

It's like, actually, once he's dead, I had nothing else to do. I wasn't going to sit in the house, just sitting there. just sitting there. I got on my job and I love my job. And so I wrote a great episode, I think. You wrote such a great episode. I think about years and his all the time. Do you? Wow.

Really? Yeah. All the time. It's all happening now. It's all happening. Sadly. Sorry. I started watching it.

I just started dating the man who is now my husband. Oh wow. I remember I was watching it in his flat in Ballam. Right. And it was such a brilliant piece of television. Oh, thank you. But I had to take breaks. Yeah.

It's tough. It's tough in the way that it needs to be and it's impassioned and it's warm and dark and all of the things. And there's no question there really. I just wanted to say that to you. It's important for me to say that to you because it's become one of those cultural reference points. Talk about how to fail. That died of death. It died an absolute death.

The lowest viewing figures in the world. So much so. When it came to the national television wars and I love the national television wars, it wasn't eligible for the long list. It wasn't for best, never mind best. drama. It wasn't eligible for the long list for new drama. No matter what you thought of it, it was definitely new because his viewing figures were so low, they had a threshold, below which you're not allowed to be nominated. We were below that threshold, and that's how low the viewing figures were. And yet it's weird. People, well, obviously, I've got a bit of confirmation

bias because it's the one thing people would talk to me about. But it's, I do meet, a lot of people who watched it. I think I met them all now. You were the last. I was the one. You were the last. You were the last. Tracked her down at last. That was so interesting. And what a good example of how sometimes great art is not valued in the way that it should be at the moment it's put out there. Well, it's funny. Years later, it went to Netflix and it worked there. It got into number six on the viewing figures, which was, that's ferocious competition there. So it's like it's like it waited it to turn.

Yeah. And I mean, it terrifies me. The one thing that happens in years and years is Trump launching a nuclear missile, which I do not believe will not happen. That's going to happen. How can a man, that mad, not use the biggest, maniacal toy that we have in the world. It's going to happen. That's on its way. That's to meet you. Let's move on to your second failure.

That's it here. In the ashes and embers of a dying world. Oh my God. And moving on. Yeah. So your... What's my second one? Remind me. Well, I'm going to change the orders because we mentioned drawing and car. So it's your failure to draw as you put it. You said to me, I'm a really good cartoonist. I am. I swear. And every day I think I'm in the wrong job. Yeah. Yeah. Because you started out doing sort of graphic designs I did on a very light sense I illustrated stories of BBC Wales

they had a Jack and Orie type show I did theatre posters I did very lightly I illustrated a series of books about the confessions of a vicar's wife unbelievably that's they're on my shelf until like book number three came along

in which she gave advice on what to do if your child is homosexual which is to pray that away and I said I can't illustrate this I literally sent that back to the publishers going go on you're over now. Imagine she put that in print. I can't remember her name now. But there's some

book that they're still on a shelf somewhere, conventions of a vicar's wife. So I was kind of like, it's a illustration. I'm in the very first edition of Blitz magazine. Do you remember that? Issue one, I'm in that. And it's a very I can draw well, but I can cartoon really well.

It's kind of asterixie, peanutsy, strong line, heavy shadow strip. Right now, I'm not kidding you, it's nothing I like more than a collar. it's like my mind right now is drawing the shadow under your collar. I'm obsessed with the shit. You've got a lapel.

It's a lapel there. And as well as those voices of talking people, I'm like drawing a straight line and there's the line of your lapel. And I cannot not draw the shadow under the lapel. It's like a compulsion. And I'm drawing that in my head all the time, all day. It's like there's a great line of your hair. It's got a great scoop to it so that underneath it falls into absolute black.

And that's in very simple cartooning terms, that's beautiful to draw. It's beautiful, helpful stop. I love how visually you... It's nonstop. I cannot not do it. And it's almost like an itch in my hand. And I'm really sad that I don't do it more because actually when I was really...

When I drew a lot, kind of like my late teens into my mid-20s, I would draw and draw and draw all the time. I was allowed to draw. I used to cover my school desk in cartoons. And the teachers would let me. It's like they think, oh, they were beautiful, these things. and amazing scenarios. And when I went to Granada,

I had a fantastic secretary called Vanessa in the days when secretaries were called Vanessa. She wasn't my PA, she was my secretary. And I love Vanessa. I was still maids to this day. And I used to draw so much that she covered my desk in paper. She got a huge sheets of paper and covered my desk. And I had all day I'd sit there and draw on it.

And then she'd take them away. She said she framed them and put them up at home. She probably just chucked them in the bit. I do believe the more you draw, the better you get. But the opposite of that, Is that the word? Yes. Yes.

I never say that normally, corollary. Is that the less you draw, the worst you care. And I feel like it's, I really feel like a failure. I feel like I've let it down. I feel like it's decayed. And I feel like it's a physical thing in my hand. I don't think it's in my brain. I think it's in my hand.

And I think I can draw, and I don't draw, and also I'm getting older now. It's like if you look at the greatest cartoonist in the world is Charles M. Shorts, the Peanuts, cast, Charlie Brown and Snoopy, which is a much darker thing that people think it. It's a very strange trip. beautifully strange

I've looked at his drawing it kind of got worse as he got older and I feel that I can't quite summon it like I used to and nonetheless I think if I locked myself

away for a year and drew every day I'd improve it so I think why don't I don't I'm saving all that money so I can do things why don't I just go and draw but I'm a writer

so I go and weirdly this is the strange thing that doesn't make any sense I can't do both I actually when I stopped drawing when I became a full-time writer it kind of died.

How interesting. That's mad. It doesn't make sense. But that's what happened. I can't make any sense out of that. I can't tell you why it happened or how it happened, but that's what happened. It kind of withered on the vine. I'm talking about my withered hand.

Do you draw at all now? Yes. I do birthday cards to my friends. I do little caricatures of people sometimes, not much. Not enough. Once or twice a month, you should be doing it every day. And I've got kind of like, there's a cartoon script in my head

what I love best of all are what in French called Bon Descine the Asterix books Yeah I read them all I love them I've got them all on myself Even the new ones are brilliant

You should buy the new ones They're excellent Because the original writer And an artist have died Their successors are so faithful To the drawings are astonishing Without being photocopies They have so captured them

And I think It's a tradition that doesn't exist in Britain the 48-page hardback cartoon strip. I've got those in my head. I want to draw those. And it's like I've got a story about a wheelie bin that comes to life that I'm drawing in my head.

Again, as well as in my head, I'm like, if I sat down, I could rattle off the first 20 pages of that. Well, it would take 20 days, about a page a day or something. Why don't I do that? I think you should but yourself a holiday and go and do it. Yeah, yes. What has drawing or cartooning, as you put it, taught you about storytelling? Oh, I think a lot of

When you look at those, it taught me a lot about timing It's like, this is very hard to describe But there's like, especially in peanut strips, which are four panels Except the very first one, which is three panels But the four panels, the silent third panel. There's like, it's very hard to describe. You need to see this. And so I think that's in my writing.

I think, I think, yes, those beats. It's kind of quite Jewish humor. Actually, without, I don't know the ethnicity of any of the, those artists. But it's the kind of humour you've seen in your Seinfeld sitcom Friends World. I could talk forever about peanuts. I can do lectures about peanuts. You know who else

loves Peanuts and Charles M Schultz is Emma Thompson who was of course in years and years. Is it? I didn't know that. We've never had that conversation. Now you can have that conversation. I'm going to text it. I did not know that. Do. And tell her I told you, I interviewed her, I was lucky enough to interview her at the Hay Literary Festival about the books that shaped her and she chose peanuts

as one of her six choices. No way. Oh my God. Me too. Yeah. I've got them all. Got them all. Oh my God. Talking of writing as a craft, you said something so interesting in your book

about writing characters that are cleverer than you. Specifically as it pertains to Doctor Who. Yes, we've come on to Doctor Who, everyone. I've got there in the end. Because Doctor Who is like the cleverest character on the planet. Yes. And you have to invent a problem that is problematic enough for him not to solve me.

Yes. Talk to us a little more about. I mean, I think every so often, I think it's true of the peanuts cartoon to tip. I think you'll never get a more complicated care than Pepperman Patty. They're quite simple in Peanuts. Charlie Brown's always a bit sad and rejected.

Snoopy's always a fantasist. Pepman Patty has a dead mum. Her dad's away a lot. She's eight years old. He leaves her on her own all the time. She's in secretly I love with Charlie Brown. She's bossy to Charlie Brown. She's rude to him.

She has a little friend called Marcy who's devoted to her. She's always root. She's so complex. Pep me and Patty. And again, coming to Doctor Who, and I think if you look at the television greats like Sherlock and actually Jane Tennyson, Prime Suspect, or anything like Del Boy,

they're clever than the writer. The writer has to work really hard. Imagine having to write Del Boy. Imagine, like they decided to continue his adventures, not written by John Sullivan. Imagine how hard you'd have to work to make him funny. And it's not a matter of intelligence. It's like Delboy is fantastically stupid,

but how hard it must be to write him to be that stupid but still credible and funny and believable and lovable. That's hard work. To write Jane Tennyson, to write her being smarter than absolutely ever. To write Sherlock who's literally smarter than everyone. It's not all characters on television, but some of the greats are that. They are smarter than the writer. And it's why Doctor Who's so hard to write because he arrives.

He's cleverer than everyone else. He's inside a time machine which is invulnerable. And the only one of its kind in the universe. and he's literally an expert in art and science and history and the human art and you've got to present him with something that puts him in danger. It's such hard work. And also the great mystery of Doctor Who is why in every episode he doesn't just turn around and go back in the TARDIS.

I mention that thing's invulnerable and it's like he never does. The audience never questions it. The audience never sits there going, go back in the TARDIS. And as a writer, you're going, it's there, just walk back 10 yards, close the door, you're safe. It's a really weird thing. Oh, it's hard. But it produces great television when you have to really run and stretch yourself. I mean, I've never written Sherlock. But imagine writing Sherlock where, I mean, in the end, even Sherlock had to deconstruct himself. We'll never know how he survived falling off that building

because he's clever than the writers. It's like all they could do is presented with options. And it's your choice. It's brilliant. It's so brilliant. And they're very rare. Because the writer automatically understands the character better than the character. character does. We know what's going to happen to that person and what they're going to say next. You don't know that in life at all. So you are literally in charge of a character and know what they had for breakfast and know how they're going to solve the crime and know how fast they can run and know whether their mum's alive or dead. So for that character to start to outstrip the writer is very rare and always produces magic, I think. Wow. You know they say that when you do an English degree,

it sometimes ruins your joy of reading for pleasure. And I know you think. Well, I don't know. You did do an English degree. Yeah, yeah. But they sometimes say that. Did writing Doctor Who and seeing how the sausage was made and going through all of the pain that you did various channels and streamers,

has it lessened your passion for Doctor Who in any way as a fan? No, absolutely. The truth of is, if you're a Doctor Who fan, you've been to quite a few ups and downs. But I said politely, there's good times, there's bad times. And you just love it constantly. It's like it's the most gorgeous. I will never ever.

tire of that noise coming up and that blue box appearing out of nowhere. I think that's magic every time. The show's about to be kind of put out to tender and probably rebooted. And whatever they do, I just said they're thinking, please don't get rid of that TARDIS. Please keep that blue box appearing. To me, that's the magic of the whole thing. I love that moment. You regenerated Doctor Who through several iterations of actors in the lead role.

What do you think each one of them brought to the role in short? Christopher Eccleson. Yeah, they all have one thing in common, which is just to be limitless. I've just described the characters being an expert in history and science and emotion and he's a king and a lord and he's a peasant at the same time. He's a time lord and yet he's without empire. He's without status except he's got the most. It's all these contradictions. So as an actor, you just need someone who's limitless and I think the show has been actually, actually that's all any actor ever wants to play.

And, you know, we've been, I'm going to say we've been so lucky to have so many doctors who'll hit that. But actually, go and talk to that actor who's playing a courtier in the back. going to 12th night. That's what they want to play. Someone limitless. Someone who could be funny and dark and silent and garrulous and all at once. It's like an actor's dream. So put that with a great actor and sizzle. It all starts. It's amazing. Shack here. What's it like to buy a car from Carvano 100% online and get it delivered to your door? Let me tell you. Your car is here, Mr. Shack. Thank you, Mr. Carvana guy. Can't wait to take it for a spin. Only the best for you, Mr. Shack. Hey, have you always been so big, tall, and handsome?

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this is what happened to the Harrisons. Start listening today, wherever you get your podcasts. Subscribers to The Binge can listen to all episodes, all at once, ad-free. Hello, I'm Simon Mayo, and I'm Mark Kermode. What a great episode we have for you lined up.

Mark, what are you doing on the latest take? It's a pack show. We have reviews of Heart of the Beast, Brad Pitt, and A Dog, her private hell, the new film from Nick Winding Refen, a boorman and the devil, a documentary about the worst film ever made,

and sense and sensibility with our super special guest. Gorgeous George Bukai, don't miss a single second of the latest take. Your final failure is your failure to keep in touch with people. Oh, I'm terrible. Are you? You'll never see me again, Elizabeth. I'll be gone out that door.

You know when you just said someone sent you a nice letter of the thanks after David's Innes, I'll completely fail to do that. No, I wouldn't expect that either. I'll fail. I mean to do it. I literally did a mental note. Oh, must write afterwards. I'll fail.

It's weird. You've kept in touch with Vanessa, your secretary who framed all the... Thanks to Instagram. I mean, I think there was a missing 30 years in the middle there. And then that is one of the... Actually, I'm not a fan of social media except Instagram because actually people haven't spoken to.

And also, it's quite a brisk conversation. It's not essays. It's like, hi, hi, how are you like that? She's lovely, Vanessa. And her mum's still alive. I love her. But I'm terrible. Okay.

Decades can pass. And I was mean. to. I mean to stay. I mean to think, I don't think I'm alone in this. I think a lot of the modern world is built around this. But I'm there working in words and I'm typing all day and or I'm on my phone all day and I love all that and yet my, oh my God. It's like recently I think I've really pissed someone off simply because I failed to reply to a really nice email that sent me. And I, in my head I went, oh yeah, yeah, great. Like that. I think I quite airily dismissed it and now she hasn't replied to my, I sent a text to apology. I thought, I've cocked that up. I've

really cocked that up. I should have replied. Why don't I? Why? I'm sitting at my desk all day. Why don't I just send that reply? I'm an idiot. You're not. It's so interesting. No one's ever chosen this failure before, but I completely relate to what you're saying. I, sometimes it's just overwhelming. Yes. There's so much information and contact to take in. And if you are creative, and if you are writing and your thinking and you're a imagining all of these people. They were turning up in your head. Yes.

But I think that's what. I think I'm always thinking, but I think there's a little conscious thought process that doesn't even make sense. But it's like I'll reply to them when everything's better, when everything's calmer, when everything makes a bit more sense. Or maybe when I've lost weight. Or maybe when I'm happier. Or maybe it's like I think it's a little bit of waiting for things to be better.

And I think I'm waiting. Oh, I'll reach this point. Then I'll fix all these things. Then maybe I'll learn to drive. Then I'll cartoon. Then I'll do this and it's that you just die. Eventually you just never quite get there. But there's the people I love.

People I love I don't stay in touch with. And a lot of people I love are very good with me and maintain friendship and keep going and forgive me for not being in touch over decades now. But I've seen it happen over death. Why? Why don't I just reply? Do you think that you have done enough work-wise

that you feel you've fulfilled some kind of legacy that you want to be? Well, I take you... I mean, no, but yes, I can see what you mean. Like, if I died tomorrow, that's not what you mean, I know. You're not going to kill me. Kill me. Go on.

Good podcast. Imagine if then you got killed. That's the next iteration of podcasting quite clearly. That's the years and years podcast, isn't it? It's like, then you get killed. I'm very proud in that I've written stories of gay men. I've written, when I went the grand, one of the 1920s, I've done Jeremy Thorpe in the 60s, 70s and 80s

I don't come to 90s done queer as folk in the 2000s I wrote cucumber Then in the 80s of course I wrote It's a sin So I wrote that's 80s to 90s Now I've done tipto in the 2000s Actually years and years goes into like the 2030s

I'm kind of strangely happy of a century of gai-ness And it's very specifically male white gaius I get that That's my limits fine I like the limits work well within the limits, within the border, the four-panel border. You see, it's like, accept that. I'm not saying that's a legacy. I'm not saying anyone's ever going to sit and watch all those things in a row.

But I'm happy with that. I'm not going right if you want a version of the gay male experience. There it is. It's not bad. I'm very struck by the waiting to get better, though. I'd love you not to feel that. Oh, but I think that, well, actually, I just had an interview with a journalist from the independent, who was very nice at the end.

And he said, he said, I think you get better. I think everything gets better. And I think that's the point. Yes. And I think you can't relax. And I work really hard. And I know one day that'll, and I know, actually, my writing has gone like that. The truth of it is, it's like a mountain range.

It goes up and down. But actually the trying and the ambition and the wanting to be different as well gets better. And it's like now I'm facing Tipto. I thought Tipto, I was very proud of Tipto. I was really proud of what I said and done there. It's a hard thing to follow. But that's fine. No one else is worried about that except me, really.

So I like that. And what could be better than Tipto? That's tricky. Maybe that's to be very different. But then it's like I followed, I did it to a scene, which is possibly as successful as I could possibly get. And I followed that with the life of Noel Gordon. I did an 80s soap star, played by Helena Bonham Carter,

which I'm very proud of. So you can duck and dive. And no one cares about this except me either. The trying is the loving in many ways. I started off the introduction talking about your parents being classics teachers and the influence that that had on you. Yep. Were they proud of your work?

They didn't really live to see me becoming what I've become. I wish my mum had seen Doctor Who because she loved Doctor Who. She made me sit and watch Doctor Who. With her son, I wish she'd sit and she'd done in 2001. So I was just stuck, I mean, and Queer's Hope was hard for her. I took that home for Christmas before Trans-Hans. mission, played it to her on VHS, and she thought it was soft porn. She genuinely, not hard, really.

So what a disappointment. And that was hard for that, that, that, that, that, that, that spring on March the 29th, she was 70 years old. She had a big party in Swansea Rugby Club. There were people who didn't come because I'd be there because queerest folk had already gone out. And it's like, that's, she didn't tell me that. Other people told me that.

And it's like, wow. And my father was more hard to please. maybe I'm spending all this time being hard to please and I remember he was tough my father he was he was a good man but in many ways

we didn't get on and when I left Doctor Who in 2010 he didn't say this to me but he said to my sisters it was an nurse I was leaving Doctor Who do you know what he said

yesterday's man yeah that thanks Dad wow I know that's amazing isn't it well it's hardly abuse I was 41 years old it's like you survive

that kind of But like, wow, so is that secretly why I'm working so hard just to impress him? I don't think so. That's kind of cod psychology. I think, and actually didn't know he'd said that for years until my sister happily told me. Couldn't wait. Couldn't wait doing that bad news to my door. Was he as tough on your sisters?

Yes. Yes, he didn't know how to talk to his kids. He was very much, I genuinely, he was war damaged. He was 16 years old when he went off to World War II. And only in his old age would he speak about the deaths of everyone. He knew people who died swimming in burning oil. He knew people who fell out of planes. And they just fell to earth terrible losses of his generation.

He started speaking about that when he was 70, 80. He lived about 89 or 90. So at every November of the 11th, he'd stand up on the one minute's silence and remember them. I'd give a little salute. He genuinely remembered them. So that's hard and came home from the war to an alcoholic mother who would hide bottles of gin around the house. In the war, he fell in love with the woman on Cyprus.

He was based on, is it Cyprus or somewhere? And he had a tough war. It was like they had a hose down boatloads of Jews to stop them coming to harbour. They weren't welcome. They'd hose them down. Get away. Get hose them.

Imagine. And he fell in love with a woman called Margaret Ratcliffe, I think, is her name. And they actually had a sexual relationship. And when the war was came back over, they were children coming home, children. so damaged by all this, he thought it was impossible for a Welsh man

to fall in love with a cockney. Impossible. And for the poor Margaret Radcliffe, she travelled, imagine a woman travelling alone in those days on a train. She came all the way from London to Swansea on her own to turn up at the door

and say, I love you, and he wouldn't let her in the house. And he took her to the cafe, the civic cafe down the road next to the old gilt hall. And sat with her and said, all his friends. He said, all his friends said,

I can't work. You can't marry. a cockney. And you just think that he ended up growing up with a son who's gay and two daughters who both got divorced and a beautiful nephew who's autistic. It's like all the problems of the world and all the complications of the world landed on his head. Whether he tried to stop it or not, you can't stop the world advancing on you, Viv. I mean, I'm very glad he married my mother. That's great. But the thought that that was a prejudice about, how on earth did we get on to this? No, this is amazing. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's like what a complicated

So the point is he never spoke about that. This is all kind of stuff I glean. It's like once. When my mother died, he told me the margaractive story. Once. So it's just that generation that just didn't talk about things at all. How extraordinary that partly shaped by that epigenetically or however, you become this storyteller. It's weird, isn't it?

Of this like humanity and heart. Well, yes. That is strange, isn't it? That's never occurred to me. Yes. Yeah, yeah. He was also, weirdly, he was also a great storyteller. Publicly, he was, he was renowned as an after-dinner speaker. People, they would cue to boy. He was a big rugby man. They always had dinners.

He was famously the best after-dinner speaker who possibly get. I was remembering rehearsing in speeches. And once or twice I saw it, he was hilarious. He had rooms in raptures of laughter. And yeah, it was never like that at home, really. It's fascinating. Lots of contradictions. What was his name? Vivian. Vivian Davis. What was your dad? Sorry, your mom's name.

name. Barbara. Barbara. Yeah, yeah, yeah. She was gorgeous. I always like to ask. I think it's important to remember. Yeah, yeah, yeah. And she grew up like, she was poor as a church mass when they grew up. It's like they lived out in the gower in a little cottage. There would be worth millions now. But then it was like rural poverty and like they were so hungry. My grandmother used to take my mother and dangler by her legs over the cliff tops to get plover's eggs from their nests. so she could come back home with some eggs

and his wife, Violet, have you been hanging her over that cliff again? Amazing. What a family. Yeah, bless them. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh, I've loved talking to you, Russell. I'd like to end this with,

you talk there about your parents of returning 70. And although you look 25, allegedly you've told me you're 63. I am. How do you feel about approaching your 70th? Right. I'd like to be more, what I'm getting now is arthritis. And I've actually got severe arthritis.

Have you? Yeah, it's not funny. It's spinal stenosis. It's not funny anyway. But it's like, it's funny because I never really imagined my old age and retirement, except I think you vaguely imagine yourself walking on a Greek beach and every so often or just like visiting places. And I kind of realize now it's going to be a lot more immobile than that. It's really, really affecting my legs now.

So what fun. and the pain is really actually quite extraordinary and pain killers don't work and I don't like to take stronger pin killers because I'll start to get numb and that's just where it is now at 63. I'm fine now. I really am fine now

but you just walk along thinking what's this going to be like at 73? Happy no to end. I know. Let's talk about my boyfriend. It was beautiful. I was actually about to say your boyfriend, so he's younger than you are.

A lot younger. He's 27, which is ridiculous, I know. But he's Australian. Okay. They're very, yes. You see, they're very grown up, aren't they, Australians? I don't know, aren't they? Oh, they are. Oh, my God, they know what's what?

Okay. It's like he might as well be 40. It's like he's kind of, he's had hell of life, actually. He's seen a lot and done lot and kind of, yeah, he fought his way to get to Britain. So he's just wonderful. And it's a great lease of life in my life. He's just gorgeous, yeah. Is that gen Alpha or Gen Z?

I don't know, no. I've lost track. Oh, don't tell him it's alpha. That's too young. He must be Gen Z, isn't he? So he's Gen Z. But I'm sure. that that gives you lots of inspiration

for your writing as well. To have a fresh perspective. It's like this is a man who's never watched the film. He just sees them all in clips. Yeah. You say, I've seen this film clips. The other day, and he's also, he's Australian. You do have some great conversations and he's only been it for two years. Because the other day he went, what's clareges? I was like, what?

How can you not know what that is? It's like, there's great gaps in his knowledge. Has he watched any of your shows? He does, yes, which I find a bit embarrassing. It's like, I mean, he likes, my shows. But you can't talk about that for more than five minutes. You go, oh, that was interesting. What's Russell Toby? Lovely. Oh, fun. That's it. Let's move on. I don't want to talk about my shows all the time,

despite doing an hour-long podcast. I've asked you. And the reason I've asked you is because I'm so grateful to you for shaping our culture in the way that you have. And I'm deeply grateful that you came on how to fail. Thank you. Oh, my God. And an honour. It's like the list of people you've had on here. I'm really honoured. And I knew this would be lovely. And thank Thank you. Thank you so much. I've talked about things I've never talked about, actually. It's like, yeah, that's really, you've led me down some avenues that need exploring a bit. So, yeah. And I should draw, shouldn't I? Draw, draw. My legs are going to pack in. Sit and draw.

Well, you can draw and, I mean, you can do both, even without your legs, you can write and draw. So that's the happy note we can end on. Raise money of maturity and draw. Why don't you go and draw my collar, my lapel? It's, I am. It's there. It's gorgeous. It's there. Thank you so much. Thank you. I hope you got as much out of this episode of How to Fail as I did.

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