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 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 earlier 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 often hidden deep in our humour so that other nationals often fail to recognise the deadpan delivery and are never too 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  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.

However, over the last few years, I find the world moving in different, if not frightening, directions. Now I wasn’t born bright. I don’t understand the logic behind the way certain governments and religions are moving, except that something in my bones tells me this ain't right. And when shit doesn’t make sense I start thinking about it over and over until it does. The way the planet is spinning right now doesn’t make sense .... but it’s starting to

Bearing this in mind, I wrote a book in 2020 entitled 'TWAS the Year 2020,' although I was speaking about these issues long before that – at bar-b-ques, dinner parties and in the pub – and although most agreed with my point of view, some called me a Conspiracy Theorist, which pleased me because it proves I’m freethinker, and, of course, it proved they had no further argument to what I was saying

Looking back on 2020, I now feel I should have begun all my conversations at dinner parties etc. with a warning, ‘SPOILER ALERT! What I’m about to say will come true in the very near future ….. they’ll find ways to make vaccination mandatory’ etc.

The interesting thing, however, is that despite just about everything I wrote in that book being proved correct, not a single one of those people has come back to me and said, ‘Well, I owe you an apology, you were right all along,’ which is human nature, I guess. They’re more frustrated at me for being right than they are at the people who lied to them. Funny old world, isn’t it?

So what of my books? Well, we discussed 'TWAS the Year 2020' above, and I followed that by publishing 'The Pendulum has Swung too far,' because during 2020, and fever since actually, a number of people, mainly politicians, large pharmaceutical companies and the exceedingly wealthy have been showing us their true colours, leaving us with the inescapable conclusion that we’re being lied to all the time. However, although the pendulum has definitely now swung too far, a pendulum will always return to its equilibrium. And I see big changes ahead for humanity as long as we don’t buy into the fear. If I were looking for a pet name to call myself, apart from Freethinker, I think I’d choose the term Apocaloptimist, a word meaning someone who knows it's all going to shit, but still thinks it will turn out okay.

Apocaloptimism is a brand-new word that is yet to be recognised by respectable dictionaries, but I choose to recognise it, which is my prerogative, I guess. 

People are getting angry, and in this book I analyse these views and justify them in the words of the bloke who goes to football on a Saturday afternoon, enjoys a few pints with his mates before the game and puts the world to right. These are, you see, issues that need addressing. I haven’t watered down my writing at all, or bent over backwards to suit the blubbering lefty woke do-gooders, I promise you that. The result? Well, I’ve been called a fascist by fascists, a racist by racists, and a right-wing football thug just because I don’t like to see statues of war heroes destroyed by thugs. Hey, call me a Conspiracy Theorist, if you like, but first of all make sure you understand what exactly that means.

Freethinkers, you see, are those who have evolved beyond other people’s comfort zones. And Apocaloptimists believe the glass is both half full and half empty.

What of my other books? 

Well, I'm currently writing a book on the Democraic Football Lads Alliance (DFLA) and why 70,000 football supporters from rival clubs joined together and marched through London in opposition to extremism. We'd grown sick of seeing teenagers blown up at Ariana Grande concerts, machete attacks in the name of Islam in London, and grooming gangs of paedophiles raping young girls in Rochdale, Rotherham, Huddersfield, Sheffield etc. So we marched several times, and for this we were accused of being racists. Work that one out.    

'You Really Are Full of Shit, Aren't You?' I know full well you've read these Agony Aunt or Advice Columns in newspapers or magazines you've found lying about in the dentist's or doctor's waiting room, and like me you've probably wanted to jump into the page, grab the whining git by the ears and shout, 'Listen to yourself, will you? You need to sort yourself out!'

Or alternatively, you've got so sick of the patronising, condescending advice puked up by these so-called experts in their field that you've longed for someone to come along who takes no crap! Well that's me. I cut them no slack whatsoever. Just have a taster of this book on Amazon and I'm sure you'll want to read more.

'Calico Jack in your Garden' is, I think, my funniest book. 'I got kicked out of bed TWICE for laughing so hard. This is, by far, one of the funniest books I've yet read.' None of my books are stories - well, one 'Cabbie with a Dangerous Mind' actually is - but apart from that I 'talk to the reader with all the confidence of a man in touch with his own reality, in a voice which is seasoned with a hint of world weariness that is so telling of a writer who has written what he knows and written it with disarming fearlessness.' Or so they say. Calico Jack is a series of anecdotes from construction sites around the capital and journeys on the London Underground.

It's been said that I have an 'easy-going style and a zest for living that is infectious,' and I hope that comes across in Calico Jack.

'Shit my History Teacher DID NOT tell me' kind of speaks for itself I guess

'White Boy in Watts' details some of my experiences, a white English guy, driving cab in Watts, Compton and Inglewood, home to the infamous Bloods and Crips, in the early 80s.

In this very short book, I’ve intended to paint an ominous picture of a community destroyed by drugs, guns and violence. You’ll almost smell the omnipresent whiff of cheap wine and feel the dirty lino under your feet. Read the true-life adventures of an English lad as I struggled to make a living amongst ‘gangstas’ who are arguably the most violent in the United States. You’ll be able to hear my characters, see them and, in some instances, actually smell them. They’ll leave their stain on you. It’ll be the thugs with guns and no soul who will unsettle you. I want you to be scared of them. Come and have a look at the world through my eyes in the 1980's, and, like me, marvel that I got out of there alive.

'Bournemouth Boys and Boscombe Girls' tells the stories of seasonal workers during the late ‘70s and early ‘80s in Bournemouth. Many worked the deckchairs on the beach, some worked hotels, pubs, bars, or nightclubs, either as bar staff or bouncers. We were the oddballs, weirdoes, comedians, eccentrics, head cases and hard cases, and this book is for those who ‘get it’, for those who've worked seasons in Spain or Portugal or Greece or Torquay or wherever. 

We lived off our wits and, yes, from time to time we were rogues, but we had each other’s backs, and we had some laughs. And those friendships, believe it or not, are still just as strong today.

We’re not crazy, none of us (well, those in prison and mental asylums might be), but none of us 'on the out’ are, but we had lively, buoyant and animated fun. We were carefree at an age when you’re supposed to be carefree. The flip side of this, I’m well aware, is that at times it may make some of us feel as if we’re outsiders, a lone wolf so to speak. People occasionally talk about us in hushed tones, whispering that we’re a bit of a loose cannon. They don’t really want to say it to our faces because every now and again we can still be a little unpredictable. But they look at us with a strange curiosity, because in comparison – although they’re often very successful at ‘fitting in’ – they lead lives that are drab, dreary and monotonous. They’re not unruly like you and me. And it’s that unruliness which has kept us young. These are the stories, some told in very funny poetic format by my mate, Danny, a Gypsy lad who I shared a room with in 1976.

'Gunpowder Soup,' 'Dogshit Saved my Life' and 'Nobody Asked Me' are my blog books.

My diatribes in my blogs and newspaper columns are simply my way of spinning the balls, because sometimes I like to see what number they land on. That’s all. 

But my favourite book, I'm sure, is 'Searching for Your Tribe: Wrong Planet People.' In the first part of the book I discuss the swashbuckling daredevils, headcases and artists who changed our world, and following that I go on to blend some of them with those from my own tribe, identifying Wrong Planet people, dropping hints on how we can spot them, and finally instructing the reader in how to discover your own ‘tribe’ if you haven’t already found them. My intention in Searching is to shake the reader's perceptions and leave him/her slightly punch-drunk.

I love to hear from readers, whether your views are positive or even if you've hated my books. Please contact me here or email me to let me know how you enjoyed the writing or just to shoot the breeze.

I ALWAYS make every effort to reply back to everyone.

Services

Discover Amazing Reads

Projects

Exciting Literary Endeavors Await

Discover a curated selection of engaging books and insightful blogs that will captivate your mind. Dive into our world of literature and uncover exceptional stories waiting to be explored.

Reviews

Copyright © All Rights Reserved