Ben Elton: ‘I fancied Olivia Newton-John. It’s all right to say that about a third cousin, right?’

Of all the things you’ve written, what gets quoted at you the most?

It’d be something from my three series of Blackadder. That’s the one that really entered the culture. I think the thing I’m proudest of is how both The Young Ones and Blackadder genuinely seeped into language. It’s not so much quotes you hear but people using the rhythms of it – like: “You’re as small as a very small thing that’s got a degree in being small.”

Language is my love. And the fact that I can hear rhythms I remember developing still resonating in Australian and British English is a source of great joy to me. But yes, at every stage door, people come up to me and say, “I expect you want a bit of rat souffle tonight.” And I have no idea what they’re talking about.

Is it true that Blackadder ended in part because the cast constantly wanted to rewrite your and Richard Curtis’ jokes, which meant rehearsals got a bit tense?

Related: Ben Elton: ‘I often felt a one-man cliché in the 80s’

We’re all still very good friends. I saw Rowan [Atkinson] only a couple of days ago, Richard wrote to me yesterday. I still see Stephen [Fry] and Hugh [Laurie]. We’re all very close. But there was a certain tension – an endless sort of deconstructing that tended to be very frustrating. There would be 20 minutes of discussion on a single syllable, or debate over something like, is a vole or a gerbil the funniest small animal to have a degree from Cambridge?

Richard and I always wanted them to rehearse the script as written before debating whether a certain line worked. We’d have the first read-through and they’d all light up cigarettes and Stephen and John Lloyd would look slightly pained over certain bits and pieces. I just stepped away in the end but Richard sat through it all. And, of course, Richard went on to write Four Weddings and a Funeral and Love Actually, so I don’t think we need to question his writing ability.

Everyone involved was a very creative person. There’s no doubt half a dozen lines each episode would come from the cast, but the other 250 lines were as written. And while there were moments of irritation, it was a great process. We were friends and have remained friends all our lives. That’s quite something. I don’t know how many sitcom teams have been as close as that.

It’s been floated that a fifth season of Blackadder could be set during the Russian Revolution or even head to space. If you did a fifth Blackadder, what would you do?

We could do any period. It would be a lovely thing to do. I recently did Upstart Crow, which was a Shakespeare sitcom set in the political world of the 16th century. But there will not be a fifth series of Blackadder, I think that’s pretty much a certainty. I have no interest in doing it. I don’t think any of us do, with the possible exception of Tony [Robinson]. But if we did, the world would be our oyster. We could have fun with any period.

If you had to fight a famous person, who would you fight, how would you fight them, and who would win?

I’ve already had my top celeb battle: a game of Pop Quiz with Brian May on the first occasion I met him. We found ourselves in the back of the tour bus of the 80s Comic Strip spoof heavy metal band Bad News. We had great fun trading trivia questions concerning early 70s UK glam rock and it concluded with Brian ruefully conceding that I knew more than him, even though he’d actually been there and Queen had supported Slade on two tours. Ten years later I got to work with Brian on We Will Rock You. I’ve been a very lucky bloke.

You wrote a song for the Wiggles. How does one write a song for the Wiggles?

That’s the gift that keeps on giving! Every year I get a royalty cheque that pays for a very decent meal out. It’s so lovely. The Wiggles are all my friends.

What happened was, I wrote a movie for them but we couldn’t get funding from Screen Australia. This was about 15 years ago, when [yellow Wiggle] Emma had first taken over. But I knew the four original guys because, when my kids were young, I used my celeb status to get us backstage. My wife, Sophie, actually knew a couple of them because her band, the Jam Tarts, occasionally shared a gig with a couple of nascent Wiggles in the Cockroaches in the 80s.

I regret the film didn’t get made, I think it would have been really good. It was a proper children’s movie that was a bit like Barbie or Peter Sellers’ Being There – the Wiggles leave their magical world and are trying to negotiate our world in this lovely, naive way because they are so naturally, inherently good. With great songs.

Anyway, we became friends and later they sent me a beautiful tune and said, would you like to do the lyrics? It took me an hour and now I’m on an Aria-winning album. As I said, every year I get a nice little cheque, but I’d be friends with them even if I wasn’t on their payroll.

What’s your most controversial pop culture opinion?

I don’t think Harold Pinter was a very good playwright. I don’t think he ever wrote a funny line. This is considered controversial; I know most people disagree. I never criticise other artists now – I’ve had a lot of that myself, and I did a bit of it when I was young, but I never do it now. But Pinter’s dead and he’s a Nobel laureate, so I think he can probably handle a farty little British standup.

When you do standup, how do you handle hecklers?

I don’t like hecklers and I don’t encourage them. I know a lot of comedians thrive on crowd work but that’s not what I do. I write a routine. I think really hard about what I’m saying, how the comic rhythms are going to reach the various climaxes I’m aiming for. Interjections are like somebody shouting in the middle of a play. The audience’s side of the equation is their laughter.

I very, very rarely encounter hecklers. Please, Guardian readers, do not see that as an invitation. I had one heckler on the 67 dates of the last tour. They were being supportive, though. They were probably a Guardian reader.

Your third cousin was Olivia Newton-John. Did you ever meet?

Very sadly, we didn’t. I was an enormous fan. Like any straight adolescent boy in the 70s, I fancied her – I think it’s all right to say that about a third cousin, right? She was an incredible artist. She had one of those voices that you know instantly. We nearly met a number of times, exchanged a couple of emails. But she lived in LA and I was in Britain a great deal so it never came about. I think I always thought I would. I regret never having met her, because I think she was a really great force in the world and a really sweet spirit, from everything I can see.

Her grandfather was a famous Jewish physicist, Max Born. He’s my great-uncle. It gives the lie to any ideas around race, because if ever there was a classic blond, blue-eyed, Aussie beauty, it was her – but hey, we’re all mixed up.

You’ve written a sitcom for Madness and musicals for Rod Stewart and Queen. What other musical acts would you love to write a show for?

We got as far as a pilot on Madness but their star was fading slightly and the BBC couldn’t see the future in it. It was the first thing that Richard and I first worked on together. If it happened, there never would have been a Blackadder. I don’t believe things happen for a reason but sometimes things work out.

I love pop. It’s one of my greatest joys. There’s no great body of pop that I wouldn’t be fascinated to work with. But I don’t know if I’ll ever do another musical. I proudly call them jukebox musicals, which critics see as a term of derision. But jukeboxes are the most wonderful things. They’re the repository of people’s dreams and memories.

Theatre allows us to experience pop music live again in a way the rock industry doesn’t really do any more. Pub rock is dying and arena shows tends to be anodyne and sanitised experiences. So if you see a show like We Will Rock You or Mamma Mia! you get to experience some of the greatest works of 20th century pop delivered live. Yeah, it’s not Queen or Abba playing but it’s a wonderful experience. Mamma Mia! is a work of greatness – a perfect story with perfect pop music.

What song would you like to be played at your funeral?

I do a whole routine about how I’m not interested in organising my funeral. I think we fetishise death. I fervently support voluntary assisted dying. If you can make your own decision, you should fucking well be able to, in my opinion. I watched my parents both die slowly and sadly, surviving living 15 to 20 years longer than their parents did. Medical science now pushes longevity far beyond any possibility of really enjoying life and I think we need a much more adult discussion about this whole business.

The dead person at a funeral is literally the last person who should get a vote in either the entertainment or the catering. So I have no song – all I want is to make sure I’m composted in an environmentally friendly way.

• Ben Elton is touring his show Authentic Stupidity around the UK in January and February, then Australia in March and April; see here for dates