Karl Wiggins – Author, humourist, raconteur and (unfortunately) master of dysphemism

I'm an author with seven books on Amazon Kindle, and I'll state right from the start that I have a particular aversion to fellow authors who befriend you and then immediately message you saying, "You might like my book ..... check it out."

I don't do that. If people wish to know more about my books the information is here to read, but I won't invade your personal space (not to mention precious time) with pleas to check out my own books

My goal, my life’s ambition if you like, is to give direction to comedy, purpose to satire. And this is probably why I write the way I do, in order to use self-deprecating, piss-taking humour to bring to the fore situations that just don’t stack up. To demonstrate that serious issues can be approached with humour.

Embarrassingly, a number of the reviews for my books seem to involve people losing control of their bladder; “Anyone who is a bit saucy, very fond of boobies and doesn't mind peeing slightly when they laugh too hard, this is the book for you!” “Best not to read this book on the train if you have a full bladder because by the end of your journey you will have a damp patch in an embarrassing place.” “I have to admit that I wet myself twice while reading it but this may in part have been due to my age and a couple of bottles of a fine St. Emilion,” “Due to the laughter you owe my secretary one clean pair of knickers.”

Two reviewers have even suggested I should tour as a stand-up comedian; “I found myself laughing out-loud and even sharing segments with my spouse ….. I think Karl could tour as a stand-up comedian,” “Mr Wiggins has views on life that are expressed in a manner worthy of any stand-up comedian.”

So my scribblings do seem to raise a smile and a chuckle, and either way you look at it, that has to be a good thing. Hardly any subject is taboo to the Englishman when he’s laughing, and this often seems insensitive to other cultures, but the bedrock of the British sense of humour is a strong sense of sarcasm and self-deprecation. The British can be very passionate – and if you doubt that try going to a football match - but that passion is hidden deep in our humour so that other nationals often fail to recognise the deadpan delivery and are never quite sure if they’ve been involved in a serious conversation or just a little bit of friendly banter.

Having said that my style of writing is now appealing more and more to the American market, and I write a regular column for a newsletter in Copiague, Long Island, New York. I’m really enjoying connecting with the people over there.

Interestingly enough, my writing style has been compared to two people, both now dead, Charles Bukowski and Socrates. Their names keep popping up in reviews; “Mr Bukowski, meet Socrates. This is an exceptionally amusing collection of observations of daily life,” “The prose style reminded me quite a lot of Charles Bukowski’s short essays and observations,” “It reminded me a lot of Bukowski’s novels, but particularly Factotum and Post Office,” “Had me laughing out loud several times, which doesn’t happen often to me. It reminded me a lot of Bukowski’s novels,” (I swear those are two completely separate reviewers), “Karl Wiggins is like a contemporary Socrates.”

I’m sure both Socrates and Charles Bukowski would turn in their graves. But then again, maybe not.

My books;

'You Really are full of Shit, Aren't You?' is my latest and possible my favourite. It's an agony uncle / advice columnist style book, but unlike most agony aunts I cut them no slack.

I'll be the first to admit that 'Dogshit Saved my Life' and 'Calico Jack in your Garden' are not to everyone's taste, but the reviews are good, so I seem to be hitting the right note.

'Shit my History Teacher DID NOT tell me' kind of speaks for itself I guess, as does 'Grit - The Banter & Brutality of the Late-Night Cab Driver.' I drove cab in b