Ash Atalla: ‘I cry easily. I get nostalgic about the passing of years’

The comedy producer, 51, reflects on early ambitions to be a stockbroker, dodging racism by being a wheelchair user, and being noisy enough to get invited to the party

I was born in Cairo and moved to Northern Ireland when I was two for my parents’ work – they’re both doctors. I’d open my mouth and this really manic Northern Irish accent would come out, which was even more incongruous for a little brown boy in a wheelchair. When my family moved to England, my nickname at school was IRA.

I was really interested in becoming a stockbroker. I’m a product of the 80s, with the stock market booms and red striped shirts. I thought: they’re just sitting down, shouting into a telephone. I could do that! That’s what I trained to do, but when I got there, I wasn’t very good at it. I got fired or resigned – depending on who you ask.

I can’t tell you that I grew up wanting to work in comedy. It’s something that occurred to me quite late. I got my midlife crisis out of the way when I was 23, a realisation that I was at the bottom of a ladder I didn’t want to climb. There’s something melancholy about trading in the City. As the new guy, I’d sit seven down from the man who’d been there 25 years. I thought: I don’t want to be him.

If you’re a wheelchair user, it’s all you know. Growing up, you start to realise that most people are not wheelchair users and you are a significant minority. It’s unwelcome learning that the world has not been built to help you.

I can’t remember experiencing racism. It’s the second most obvious thing about me. Had I not been in a wheelchair, my heritage might have turned up more. If you looked at me as a child or even now, the first thing you might say is: “That man is a wheelchair user.” Only then would you add: “He is Egyptian.”

I don’t subscribe to the narrative that it’s hard to make comedy in the current climate. Only a small percentage of issues are hot-button topics: gender, the trans debate. Do those things occupy my thinking when I’m putting together a new sitcom? Not at all. If you want to go straight into the fire and talk about those things, good luck to you. But that’s not where 99% of comedy sits.

I’ve always been worried about being invisible. It’s GCSE psychology to say the guy in the wheelchair wants to make sure he’s noisy enough that people take notice. Working in comedy is one way of making sure you’re invited to the party.

I find it very hard to watch comedy. I’m either hugely envious or writing script notes in my head. I want to watch television for escapism. The problem is, it’s what I do for a living.

I cry relatively easily. I get quite melancholic and nostalgic about the passing of years. It can bring me to tears quickly.

I had some interior designers help me do my flat. They said, “You should include something to do with The Office.” I thought that would be showy, so instead they came up with this ugly picture of a canal in Slough that has nothing to do with the show I produced. It’s been on the wall for years.

Is there a God? Well, my family thinks so, so hopefully they’re not reading this. If there is, I’ve got a few notes for him.

Things You Should Have Done is available to catch up on BBC iPlayer