Sometimes, UK comedian Romesh Ranganathan gets flak, mainly from fellow comedians ribbing their cherished good mate, about his industriousness.

The 46-year-old, whose prolificacy as a stand-up, writer and TV and radio presenter and performer was first acknowledged by a Hardest Working Comedian of the Year award just five years after his first gig, toils with intent.

But if his efforts one day fall apart, he has a back-up. “Sunglass Hut,” Ranganathan says. “I used to work there. I could just go back.”

Would he really?

“Well, you know when you see people that were massive on a sitcom and then they’re working in a Walmart or something like that?” he says. “And there’s some video by some member of the public going, ‘Isn’t that a shame?’ I sometimes think, ‘What a cool thing to go and do, man’. Genuinely. You did this mad thing that put you in this really strange world, and then you’ve gone and done some normal shit. I kind of respect it. I think it’s a good way to go.”

Australian TV doesn’t air every Ranganathan project, but he is a household presence on UK panel shows, travel programs, quiz shows, live stand-up specials and documentary series.

He is familiar here for appearances on QI, Live at the Apollo, Would I Lie To You?

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He has won two BAFTA awards, written three books (two autobiographical and one children’s book, Lil’ Muffin Drops the Mic) and hosted an award-winning BBC radio show For the Love of Hip-Hop, a genre he loves.

British comedian and writer Sara Pascoe has said Ranganathan’s productivity simply stems from people loving and wanting to work with him. His close friend and regular collaborator UK comic Rob Beckett reckons it’s his strong work ethic, inspired by Ranganathan’s Sri Lankan emigrant family, and a deep, lifelong love of comedy.

Sitting in his home in Crawley, West Sussex, Ranganathan pushes up his glasses, looks off-screen and considers this impression of his career with a longish pause.

“The problem is,” he says, returning focus while running fingers through his hair. “I don’t see myself as hard-working. Because, everything I do, it’s not really work.”

He leans forward, resting his chin on his hands. “It was my dream to do stand-up,” he says. “Is it a job to go and deliver my sort of half-assed thoughts for an hour-and-a-half every night? No, not really. That’s not hard work.

“Is it hard work to ask a lot of questions [as the new host of BBC One quiz show] The Weakest Link and then, occasionally, sort of take the piss out of people for their answers? That doesn’t really feel like work to me.

“Do you know what I mean? I turn up to stuff, I make a lot of stuff. Does that mean I’m hard-working? I don’t think so. I never feel like it’s a slog.”

He can see a valid argument around his regular appearances on stage, radio or TV reducing people’s excitement to see him. “There are some people where you go, ‘Holy shit, they got that guy’,” he says. “Whereas, for me, [I think] it’s like, ‘Oh shit, they got that guy’. That’s what I worry about. That’s the paranoia.”

He also believes there is an element of imposter syndrome driving his compunction to say yes to everything, in case no one asks again.

“So, I do a lot of stuff,” he says. “But the other side of that is, I’m probably not at home as much as I’d like to be.”

Ranganathan, 46, the son of Sri Lankan Tamil parents Ranga and Sivashanthini (Shanthi), has three children with his wife Leesa Ranganathan. They met at Hazelwick School in Crawley where she was a drama teacher and he was a maths teacher. They live in the town he grew up.

In his new live show Hustle, touring Australia from October, Ranganathan describes family as his happy place, although his comedy is often at its best when illustrating the self-doubt, irritation and incredulity he feels trying to be a good parent, husband and son.

He is keen to keep trying. “I’ve just been on holiday for a few weeks, and I did think to myself it’s highly likely I’m going to take a step back from stuff and probably do less going forward,” he says. “Not because I find it hard. But because I’d like a bit of space. I’d like to hang out at home and watch some great comedy and also think about what my next thing might be.”

Ranganathan plants a palm to his forehead. “I was about to say, ‘as a creative’,” he says, laughing. “I’d have to jump out the window if I said that seriously.” He points over at the window. “The reason I looked off into the middle distance in a thoughtful way when you asked about working hard was because you caught me right at the moment where I’m thinking, I probably am going to do less, or more of one thing, in the future.”

Ranganathan is sometimes billed as a grump, a Larry David-esque curmudgeon spilling weary annoyance at the everyday. But beneath the deadpan, his comedy is as self-deprecating as it is honest in examining his personal vulnerabilities and worries.

Hustle, which features hip-hop DJ Martin 2 Smoove as support act, is fuelled by striking self-investigation.

Topics range from his marriage’s inner workings to the personalities of his children, his own mental health, his veganism, jealousy of David Beckham (not for what you may assume) and his love for hip-hop music, a passion he shares with his oldest son.

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“Every time I do a show, I want to be more honest than I was last time,” he says. “Hustle is about me and my take on things, but it is the most embarrassed I’ve been on stage. When I first thought of saying these things about my life, my job, marriage, I felt super-awkward about saying it on stage. But that normally means that’s a good thing. If you’re thinking, ‘Do I really want to say this?’, then you’re probably on something good.”

The show’s overarching theme, he says, is about the false ideal of “nailing life”. “There’s all these people saying you should get up every morning and write down your objectives for the day, what you’re going to do and achieve, and blah, blah, blah. And I just find it really tiring,” he says.

“I accept the hypocrisy of saying that as somebody that’s done 20 TV shows in the last year. It doesn’t make sense, I’m not practicing what I preach. But, it’s about the fact that, on the outside, people think I’m successful, but I don’t really feel like I’ve nailed what it means to be content, or happy, really.”

At the end of his show, he says, he hasn’t come to any kind of conclusion. “I still haven’t nailed it, as I’m talking to you now. The show is me going, ‘What the hell am I doing?’

And, if he doesn’t find the answer, there’s always a back-up. “I’ll sell sunglasses,” he says.

Hustle, Romesh Ranganathan, is at Hamer Hall in Melbourne, October 2; State Theatre in Sydney, October 15; plus dates in Canberra, Brisbane, Adelaide and Perth.