Robert H. Wringham was born in 1982 in the English town of Dudley where, he says, many terrible things happened to him. Chief among them was being told he couldn’t grow up to become the gameshow host he so dearly longed to be and so, out of spite, worked as a librarian for ten years instead.

Even so, his first bid for a career in showbiz was at the age of 14 in a stand-up comedy competition at the Birmingham Hippodrome where Josie Lawrence from Whose Line is it Anyway? judged him the third-funniest child. He has since performed at every fringe venue worth talking about, albeit usually only once.

Since 2007, in what he calls his “second great climb-down,” he has pointed his imagination in the direction of writing over performance and now considers himself one of The Great Humorists even if nobody else does.

His pieces have been described as “arch” and “aristocratic” despite being barely “about” anything, but they do not overstay their welcome. In fact, they often end so abruptly that you might suspect that something has gone wrong.

Not one to return to the scene of a crime, he lives in Scotland and Canada.


A more detailed and industry-minded profile dwells here.

And there’s always Wikipedia.