Your comedy has always balanced humour with sharp social critique. When you begin writing a new show, what comes first: the joke, or the tension you want to explore?
What comes first for me is an idea. It could be somebody I see on the tube or the bus, or a conversation I overhear, or something in the news. I think to myself, I really want to talk about that. There is so much going on in the world that I feel compelled to address. I talk about political correctness, offence, people being easily offended, diversity, the dilution of the white man, how white men used to control everything and how they are having to take a back seat, and why we need different people doing different jobs. It is basically how I see the world. That is what every comedian is doing on stage. It is them, their worldview, how they see the absurdities, injustices and madness of life. If I do not feel strongly about something, I will not talk about it. You can make anything funny, but what really matters is your point of view. Are you angry about it, sad about it, frustrated by it? For me, the attitude is more important than the material. The way I feel about something is what shapes the jokes. I also believe the truth is funny. If what you are saying is true to you and true in the world, people will recognise it. When you say something on stage and the audience knows it is true, that recognition comes out as laughter.
You’ve built a career fearlessly entering rooms where not everyone may agree with you. What has stand-up taught you about courage, especially as a woman of colour in a traditionally male space?
When I first started, I was the only Muslim woman doing stand-up, and one of maybe two or three Asian women on the circuit. Now there are more of us, but still only a small number of South Asian women who are touring, on TV and doing it professionally.
There are even fewer Muslim women. For about ten years I was often the only woman on the bill, surrounded by white male comedians. The producers, directors, writers, bookers, they were all white men. To sustain a career in that environment, to keep working and to keep being on TV, I had to be very strong mentally and emotionally. I have had to work extremely hard, but that part came naturally. I am Asian, I have that work ethic.
Our culture teaches us that nothing will be given to us, that we have to earn it. That put me in good stead as a comedian. I always knew nobody was going to hand me anything. I also had to be courageous. I took a lot of criticism, abuse, threats and negativity.
I was told as a woman, an Asian woman, a Muslim woman, that I should not be doing comedy, that it was un-Islamic, haram, unfeminine. That came not just from Asian men and women but from everywhere. To keep going, you really have to believe in yourself and what you are trying to do.
You have to hold on to your aim and think, I know what I am doing, I know this is what I want, and I am going to keep going. That is what I did, and now there is a whole culture of Asian stand-up and audiences full of Asians coming to watch comedy. Things have changed. But it has been very hard.
You’ve never shied away from sensitive topics like identity, politics and religion. How do you decide what’s worth challenging publicly, and what you keep for yourself?
I have always wanted to talk about the things that are important and true to me, that have shaped my life. Identity, politics and religion are central to that as an Asian Muslim woman. South Asian women face a lot of difficulties connected to family dynamics, religion and identity. Are we too Western, too Asian, accepted or not accepted by the English? Are we British, Pakistani, Indian, something in between? That identity crisis affects who we become, what we achieve and how we are seen in Britain. These themes are not abstract – they are who I am. Robin Williams said stand-up comedy is a journey of self-discovery, and that is true. As you progress in comedy, you become braver, talk about more personal things and, slowly, you become who you really are. For years, my opinions were really my parents’ opinions, South Asians will understand that. Our parents are such dominant figures that we often inherit their beliefs. Over time, I have become more myself on stage, and now when I stand there, I say what I really want to say. They are my opinions, how I see the world. There are subjects that are sacred and personal, and not everything needs to be on stage or turned into a joke. I think carefully about what I say and who it might benefit. I love to empower South Asian women, and that is always in my mind when I perform.
You’re appearing in this year’s Christmas Celebrity Apprentice. What made you say yes, and how did the reality compare to what you imagined?
It is a real honour to be in this year’s Christmas Celebrity Apprentice for Children in Need. I have watched The Apprentice for years. I find it so entertaining and so funny. I love the way people on it can be deluded, overambitious, ruthless and hungry for fame. It is a reflection of the world we live in. People will do almost anything for money and fame. Being part of it this year was such a privilege. I was in a fantastic team: Tom Skinner from the original Apprentice, Matt Morsia the gladiator, JB Gill from a boy band, Sarah Hadland the actress and Angela Scanlon, a TV presenter. We had a great time together, we got on and we laughed a lot. Because it is a Christmas special, we got to fly to Lapland to meet Father Christmas. None of us had been before. Finland was beautiful and magical, covered in snow, exactly like you imagine Christmas to be. The experience itself was wonderful, but doing it to raise money for Children in Need made it even more special. It is a difficult show. The tasks are demanding and there is a lot of chaos. But I loved that. I love Karen Brady, Lord Sugar and Mike Soutar, who led my team. These people have become iconic characters on our TV. As a comedian, I enjoyed the improvisation, the unpredictability, the fact that nothing was scripted. You never knew what was coming next, and you just had to roll with it. That challenge was exciting for me.
The Apprentice strips people of control and throws them into intense group dynamics. How did you navigate the chaos: through humour, strategy, or pure survival instinct?
This is exactly why I love The Apprentice. But I come from an Asian family, so I already know all about control and intense group dynamics. You have your mother, your father, your mother-in-law, your brothers, your sisters. It is like being in The Apprentice all the time! This is why Asian people often thrive on the show. We are used to chaos. I grew up with three brothers and one sister. There was always humour and a strong survival instinct. In an Asian family you are constantly asking, how do I get heard. How do I get someone to listen to me. How do I make my place. It is very competitive. So I loved the fact that the show was not scripted, that I had no pre-written jokes to fall back on. I just had to be myself and get on with it. Going to Lapland with people I did not really know, filming a Christmas special, being in the boardroom with Lord Sugar, it was like being a deer in headlights. I had one week to prepare, to buy thermals and snow boots, and I did not really know what I was walking into. Sometimes that’s a good thing. It forces you to focus and do the job. It was a once in a lifetime experience and I feel very lucky to have done it. When people watch it, I think they will absolutely love it. It is hilarious, total chaos, two one-hour Christmas specials. I think it will be a real treat.
Without spoilers, was there a moment on The Apprentice when you thought, “I cannot believe this is happening on national television”?
There were so many. We had to create a Christmas biscuit for Children in Need, in Lapland. I love cooking, but my comfort zone is garam masala, turmeric, coriander, chillies. I was completely lost without my spices and my cumin.
Trying to make a Christmas biscuit for children while wondering how to crowbar my spices into a gingerbread man was quite something. The task was genuinely hard.
On The Apprentice you have to create, sell, advertise and market, all at once. It is a full-blown operation. You’ll be laughing at the incompetence, the delusion, the chaos and the catastrophe of it all. Sometimes the funniest things come from complete disasters.
There is a bit of schadenfreude in watching people struggle, just like when you see someone running for the bus and falling over. You laugh, even if you should not. In this show, people will be laughing at us as much as with us, and that is fine.
It is a Christmas special. There should be laughs. I just hope I make the Asian community proud. It is not the first time I have dragged them through the mud, and it will not be the last, but I hope they see the funny side.
The festive season is a major moment in British TV. What do you hope audiences take from seeing you in such a different context this Christmas?
Christmas is a huge moment in British television, especially for comedy. Growing up, I watched Christmas Blankety Blank with Les Dawson and then Lily Savage, Porridge, Gavin and Stacey, Only Fools and Horses. Christmas comedy is a big part of British culture. Even though I am Muslim, we always celebrated Christmas. We had a tree, we wrote cards, and we had Christmas dinner. My mum would stuff the chicken with garam masala, turmeric and cumin, but it was still Christmas dinner. We would sit down at three o’clock and listen to the Queen’s Speech. We were fully integrated, as many Asians are. So this year, people will be sitting with their Quality Street, watching TV, and I really hope they just have a good laugh. I am the only Asian in this Christmas special, so a part of me does feel that sense of representation, even though I do not like to label it that way. It is The Apprentice, it is about business and making money. In many ways it is very Asian programming. The main thing I want is for people to be entertained. BBC One, Christmas, a two part special, it does not get more British than that. I hope everyone has a really good time watching it.
You’ve also stepped into EastEnders, one of Britain’s most iconic soaps. What drew you to join the cast, and how did the experience challenge you creatively?
I play a paediatrician, a doctor who diagnoses Lauren’s baby as blind and helps the parents navigate that. It was a strong, meaningful storyline, which is why I wanted to do it. The other reason is my parents always wanted me to be a doctor. Now, finally, I am one. They could not be prouder. It has taken me many years, but I got there in the end! EastEnders is an iconic show. I grew up watching it – I was about eleven when I started. To go from watching it to being in it was incredibly moving. It has been a long road, full of ups and downs, and it felt like something had come full circle. It shows what can happen if you keep going. Something will come your way eventually. Being on set was nostalgic and slightly surreal. I felt like I already knew it, because I had been there in my mind so many times. It was a wonderful experience and I loved every minute.
EastEnders demands emotional realism rather than punchlines. How did you adjust from the autonomy of a comedy stage to the rhythm of ensemble dramatic performance?
I actually trained as an actor. I went to drama school at Rose Bruford for three years, so I have an acting background as well as comedy. For EastEnders, I worked hard on the character. I was diagnosing a baby who is blind, so I worked with the Royal National Institute of Blind People. There was a woman on set advising on the realism of the subject, and I did a lot of research into how I wanted the doctor to be. I watched real doctors, including my own GP, and observed how they communicated. I thought carefully about the situation, about Lauren as a mother whose child has been born with impaired sight, and about her partner. I did not just go in and wing it. I learned my lines inside out and gave the character and the story a lot of thought. I also understood the weight of it. I was going to be a doctor on EastEnders. That is like hitting two birds with one stone: being in EastEnders and being a doctor. My parents took it very seriously. They honestly think I am a doctor now. I lived that role as much as I could, and I’m happy with how it turned out.
Across stand-up, acting, TV and writing, your voice has remained distinctly your own. What keeps you grounded as you evolve across so many different mediums?
I have done a lot of TV, acting and writing, but first and foremost I am a stand-up. Everything else came from that. My voice has not always been my own – when I started, my opinions and beliefs were really my parents’. They were such strong characters in my life that I naturally took on their views. Over time, I have tried to be more and more true to myself. My faith is very important to me and that keeps me grounded. When I write material, I try to make sure it comes from a place of truth. This business is very difficult. It is full of ups and downs. When I was growing up, fame was concentrated in a few iconic figures. Now, with so many channels and reality shows, everybody is famous. To sustain a career for twenty years or more is very hard. If you are an actor, writer or comedian, you cannot just be in it for fame. You have to love the craft. I love comedy, writing and performing. The people who last are the ones who keep working on their craft and know it could all end tomorrow. That reality keeps me grounded. I never think I have made it – I stay grounded because I love the work itself.
