When I was a science teacher in an East End comprehensive, I used to teach – or rather, tried to teach – a boy now known as Dizzee Rascal. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

I am in Stockholm, by myself. I have come here for a few days to do some shows. My phone hasn’t rung for three days. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

I was on the tube the other day when I over heard a schoolgirl telling her friend, “My mum is my best friend, we hang out together, go for drinks and share clothes.” Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

My best friend, whom I’ve known since I was 16, is gay. He hasn’t told his parents, but I think families often know things even when they are not talked about. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

I am in Pakistan – with my mother. I came here to do a gig and decided to bring my mother with me as she hasn’t visited the country for 20 years. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

We all outgrow our parents, hopefully. They (parents) refer to this as, “Disappearing up her own backside; forgetting her roots and thinking that just because she lives in London, she’s better than us.” Continue reading “Shazia Mirza’s Weekend Column”

Sex was never talked about in our house. If a naked toe appeared on screen, my mum would run across the room and change the channel. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

I sent my parents £100 in the post last week. Why? Out of respect, out of guilt and because they’re old. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

The Asian mother’s relationship with her son is a famous one. Giving birth to a son is like giving birth to a king, three tonnes of gold, a racehorse and house in Knightsbridge. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

I have three brothers and a sister. The dynamic between us has always been distinct. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

My mother was adopted when she was two. Her adoption has affected all subsequent relationships in her life, especially those with her husband and children. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

My parents have been married for 40 years. When people congratulate them on it, my mum replies, “Well, we endured it.” Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

When I ring my parents’ house and my dad answers the phone, the­ conversation goes like this, “Hi Dad, how are you?” Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

Before I became a comedian, I was a science teacher in an East End comprehensive. My parents were happy with this profession; it was respectable, sensible and, they thought, a good asset to ­obtaining a better class of husband. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

I love my younger sister, in a Noel and Liam Gallagher kind of way. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

I was brought up in a family of five brothers and sisters. That’s a lot these days, so people often ask, “What was it like?” The answer is, competitive. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

“What’s love got to do with it?” my mum shouted at me and my brother this week. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

My dad communicates with his children via newspapers. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

I do admire my mother for her audacious hope. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do, said Philip Larkin. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza: Diary of a disappointing daughter”

I have fantasies. Some are filthy, some abominable and some are appealing. But they have all remained just that: fantasies. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza’s Weekend Column”

Someone sent me an email recently. It said, “We have been observing you and we have reached our verdict. You are shit. You are a waste of space and a total disgrace.” Continue reading “Shazia Mirza’s Weekend Column”

I had some bad news this week. My manager informed me of this news via email. It was like hearing about the death of a loved one via pigeon. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza’s Weekend Column”

I am in New York. I just arrived for a meeting with a publisher, who walked in and said, “I’m so sorry I’m late, it’s been a hectic…” Continue reading “Shazia Mirza’s Weekend Column”

I love the ordinary. Ordinary people, ordinary life, ordinary conversations about the price of eggs. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza’s Weekend Column”

It is Sunday 8 November, 2009. I walked into a restaurant this evening, to see a 6ft Christmas tree in the entrance, fully decorated with a gold angel at the top, Christmas lights and balls and tinsel running all over it. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza’s Weekend Column”

I was performing at a small pub in Kidderminster last week. After the show, a young white man approached me. He said, “I really like you – will you come out for a drink with me?” Continue reading “Shazia Mirza’s Weekend Column”

Everyone does things for attention. When I was nine, I set my mum’s dustbin on fire and wore her gold jewellery to school without her knowing. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza’s Weekend Column”

The Queen invited me to Buckingham Palace this week. Me,from the slums of Birmingham to Buckingham Palace. I could hardly contain myself. I entered the Queen’s Ballroom to find 400 other Asian people. Continue reading “Shazia Mirza’s Weekend Column”

Chelsea v Liverpool, Sunday afternoon, Stamford Bridge. My friend John, a Chelsea season ticket holder and a very nice, well-mannered, middle-class, political man, says, “Shazia, I’m going to takeyou to a football match. It’ll be a real experience for you.” Continue reading “Shazia Mirza’s Weekend Column”