Pilot

                                    

                                          
Nardole enters the office through the door followed by girl. Nardole's arm squeaks mechanically as he gestures for her to sit in front of the desk, then a bolt falls off. He smiles and kicks it behind him, then backs out and closes the door. The girl investigates the Police Telephone Box parked in the corner by a window. It has an 'Out of Order' sign hanging on the door. The desk has photographs of Susan Foreman and River Song on it, and there is a little glass with a tiny rose in it. The clock chimes. The girl is reaching for the pot that contains not pencils or pens, but sonic screwdrivers, when suddenly the peace is ripped apart by an electric guitar playing Beethoven's Fifth.
                          
"Ahem!" silence, then the Doctor puts his head out of the other door, then back in again. There is the whir of a sonic screwdriver and a bit of amplifier feedback, then he comes out followed by me.
                          
"Potts?" I ask.
                          
"Yeah."
                          
"Bill Potts."
                          
"You wanted to see me."
                          
"Er, you're not a student at this university," the Doctor says.
                          
"Nah, I work in the canteen."
                          
"Yeah, but you come to our lectures."
                          
"No, I don't. I never do that."
                          
"I've seen you" I say.
                          
"Love your lectures. They're totally awesome."
                          
"Why do you come to our lectures when you're not a student?"
                          
"Ok, so my first day here, in the canteen, I was on chips. There was this girl. Student. Beautiful. Like a model, only with talking and thinking. She looked at you and you perved. Every time, automatic, like physics. Eye contact, perversion. So, I gave her extra chips. Every time, extra chips. Like a reward for all the perversion. Every day, got myself on chips, rewarded her. Then finally, finally, she looked at me, like she'd noticed, actually noticed, all the extra chips. Do you know what I realised? She was fat. I'd fatted her. But that's life, innit? Beauty or chips. I like chips. So, did she. So that's ok."
                          
"And how does that in any way explain why you keep coming to our lectures?"
                          
"Yeah, it doesn't really, does it? I was hoping something would develop. What's that? A police telephone box?"
                          
"Yeah" the Doctor replies.
                          
"Did you build it from a kit?"
                          
"No, it came like that."
                          
"Then how did you get it in here? The door's too small and so are the windows."
                          
"We had the window and a part of the wall taken out and it was lifted in."
                          
"What, with a crane?"
                          
"Yeah, with a crane. It's heavier than it looks. Why do you keep coming to our lectures?"
                          
"Because I like them. Everybody likes them. They're amazing. Why me?"
                          
"Why you what?" I ask.
                          
"Well, plenty of people come to your lectures that aren't supposed to. Why pick on me?"
                          
"Well, I noticed you."
                          
"Yeah, but why?"
                          
"Well, most people when they don' t understand something, they frown. You smile."
                          
"I'll tell you what I don't understand. You've both been lecturing here for a long time. Like, fifty years, some people say. Nabeela in the office says over seventy."
                          
"Yeah, and you're thinking, 'Well, they don't look old enough." I say.
                          
"No. I'm wondering what you're both supposed to be lecturing on. It's like the university let you do whatever you like. One time, you were going to give a lecture on quantum physics. You talked about poetry."