Britain loves people who, when asked, “Who was Winston Churchill?” reply, “He was the first black president of America.” It loves people who say, “East Angular – that’s abroad, innit?” Useless is good. Useless is the new success. Useless gets ratings up. Continue reading “Shazia’s week”

Fun is overrated. I am no good at having fun; I get excited when there’s a pattern on my toilet roll. Continue reading “Shazia’s week”

I’m in New York. I love America. It really is the land of opportunity. Unless you’re black or gay. Thankfully I’m beige, and it’s definitely in this season. Continue reading “Britain: hotbed of terrorist talent”

My best friend is rich, handsome, intelligent, successful, funny – and has a huge house. So obviously he is gay. This week I went to watch him play gay football. This is not like straight football, where they score goals and bite ears off if they don’t win. Continue reading “Watching gay football”

This week I flew to India. The British Council does not have much money, and flew me in economy on Air India – the equivalent of the luggage hold on easyJet. The only consolation is that the Air India stewards can string a sentence together and do not have orange faces. Continue reading “Shazia’s week”

I was walking down a street in New York recently when a man shouted out: “Oi Paki, go back to India.” That man will be pleased to know that I am going to India for the first time – not to open a call centre or adopt a child, but to do some shows courtesy of the British Council, which has asked me to perform in Pune, Ithaka, Bombay and Mumbai. Continue reading “Shazia’s week”

A Muslim woman knocked on my door last night. I didn’t open the door – I just talked through the letter box to see how she likes it. Continue reading “Shazia’s week”