I was born in the year 1964, which means I am exactly on the cusp between boomer and generation X. This is more than a fascinating fact about me – although it is of course also that. It is a disability. Yet incredibly, at no stage in my entire BBC career did anyone try to make the world accessible for this disability, neither by mandating every single person I might ever work with – or maybe even just humorously touch – to undergo unconscious Greggism training, nor by helping me with off-ramps for my jokes. I was sometimes left literally stranded halfway down a gag about my knob and no one came to my aid. Where was the compassion?
Having said that, perhaps it still exists in small pockets. I am massively grateful to the close pals whose briefing of the Times resulted in yesterday’s headline: “Gregg Wallace’s autism means he can’t wear underwear, say friends”. I am now keen to encourage further friends to come forward and cite the second medical condition which means that despite knowing that my autism prevents me from wearing underwear, I still have to take my trousers off in front of runners. This is clinical.
