Disclaimer: I am Stephen Moffat. Everyone knows he's female, blonde, Mancunian, and fourteen years of age.

He kisses River Song. River Song, a deeply intelligent, admirably capable, fascinatingly beautiful woman who knows him better than he could hope for any other human – except, perhaps, one.

It is the thought of that one human being which torments him as he kisses the intelligent, capable, beautiful River. He greets his unknowing tormentor without fear or resentment; he was an idiot to imagine the pain would be gone when the wedding was over, anyway.

Indeed, the pain is not gone. Nothing has changed. She is still his Pond, and she is still mad and impossible, and still the girl who waited, and she will never ever make sense to him. He is still head-over-heels in love with her. And she is still head-over-heels in love with Rory Williams.

Thus as he kisses the shining Ophelia that is River Song, he cannot help but imagine that the golden curls brushing his face are in fact flaming red waves. He cannot help but envision that the glittering grey eyes hidden beneath the closed lids are a wild, earthy green, that the gun at her waist is a cricket bat.

He cannot help but dream that the person he is kissing is not the genius superwoman goddess River, but a lonely, broken little Scottish girl named Amy Pond. A lonely, broken little girl who is now a woman. A lonely, broken little girl who is now magnificent.

He is only just starting to love River. Someday he may love her as much as he does Amelia; or by the sound of things, even more. Yet today, if he was given the choice – the choice he does not have because the choice is Amy's and always will be – his chosen one would not be Doctor Song.

But it takes less than nine-hundred years for one to come to terms with the fact that we cannot have exactly what we want in this life. The weary old traveller speaks the truth when he tells River that "it was good", and, as always,faces the universe with a shield of delightful optimism.

Well, this is utter shite, I'll admit...took me six minutes...could be worse though, couldn't it? Couldn't it? Couldn't it? Meh.