The deleted scenes for The Day of the Doctor not only reveal the truth of the Curator but also tie in with the Timeless Child arc a mere seven years later!
CURATOR: I can only tell you what I would do if I were you. Oh, if I were you. Oh, perhaps I was you, of course. Or perhaps you are me. Congratulations.
DOCTOR: Thank you very much.
CURATOR: Or perhaps it doesn't matter either way. Who knows, eh? Who knows?
(The Curator leaves a happy Doctor and after he leaves, some soldiers pass the doorway.)
CURATOR [OC]: Oh, you lot of monkey-shaggers again, eh? You Division harlots are all the same! You want to wipe my memory? Well, bring it on, you slags! One at a time or all at once, it's all the same to me! Just make sure you lower your nipples!
(The Doctor admires the painting as there is the sound of heavy blows, screaming of pain and the thud of bodies slamming into walls.)
CURATOR [OC]: Ow! Right, I'll do you for that, you padded-shoulder nancy-boys! I'm gonna punch your teeth so far down your throat you're gonna have bite marks in your sphincters, you massive tools! I could beat you with my legs tied behind my back!
(Dust is shaken loose and falls down the wall. One of the paintings is shaken off its hook and falls to the floor. The Doctor puts it back.)
CURATOR [OC]: What, you again? Right, you slag, cop this then! And once! And twice! And, bugger it, three times!
(A heads smashes through the wall and then is dragged back out of sight with a scream, then smashes a through the wall a little further along.)
CURATOR [OC]: Haha! It'll take more than two of you!
(A dozen soldiers run past the doorway towards the fighting.)
CURATOR [OC]: Ooh shit.
(Smiling nostalgically, the Doctor enters his TARDIS.)
CURATOR [OC]: Oof! And ooh! Oh Jesus, this isn't going well.
(More screams and violence are heard as the Doctor walks around the console room.)
CURATOR [OC]: Ooh, my arms! Ooh, my legs! Ooh, my kidneys! Oooh, my everything!
DOCTOR: Clara sometimes asks me if I dream. "Of course I dream," I tell her. "Everybody dreams." "But what do you dream about?" she'll ask.
CURATOR [OC]: I may be an old fart unable to grind his own teeth, but I can still grind you losers up! Tell Gat I'm not one of her slimy little underlings, the rest of you are such brownnosers you use toilet paper for handkerchiefs!
DOCTOR: "The same thing everybody dreams about," I tell her. "I dream about where I'm going." She always laughs at that. "But you're not going anywhere, you're just wandering about."
CURATOR [OC]: Now which one of you bitches wants to have nine colours of crap beaten out of you?
DOCTOR: That's not true. Not any more. I have a new destination.
CURATOR [OC]: (primal scream) BOO-YAH!!!
