That frustrates someone who believes humour must be political - and worries his collaborators, who fear their art is the new vaudeville.
"We're a circus that comes to town and sets up next to the white community," King says. "As long as you don't let the lions and tigers out of the cage, it's okay."
At 58, he is a bundle of contradictions, which he concedes while sauntering into a steak house, dressed in slacks and a floral golf shirt. At 6 feet 6 and 240 pounds, he is the biggest man in the restaurant, looking more like a Saskatchewan Roughriders linebacker than a noted author.
He is also equal parts first class and first nations. He insists on flying business class because of his size, although indulgence is not something he avoids anyway. He can rattle off the names of Toronto steak houses and golf courses he frequents with his friend, native actor Graham Greene. He also has a big house in Guelph, Ont., where his second wife teaches at the university, as well as two cars, three cats and vacations in Costa Rica.
"I'll be honest with you. I've got no interest in being poor," he says.
Just the same, King has a passionate socialist streak. He wants his humour to be about poverty as much as discrimination. He also targets big corporations whenever he can. Air Canada, Nortel, Monsanto - they will all make an appearance in the Regina show, and not as models of a good society.
To King, big corporations should be thrown on the same scrap heap as Canada's aboriginal policy because they are both issues of class. When he moved to Canada, he was offended by Ottawa's apparent unwillingness to grant Indians more land - the core to all native identity, he believes. But he also grew disturbed in the 1980s and 1990s as he watched the growing gap between North America's rich and poor, between its big companies and small communities and especially between it governments and first nations.
The gap can be seen right outside the wood-panelled steak house, where downtown Regina is anything but funny when it comes to aboriginal people. In the early evening, the long shadows of spring race down deserted streets and pedestrian malls, their only company being wayward natives.
With crime gangs now operating from reserves around the city, Regina is already referred to as Canada's car-theft capital. Aside from a casino, there are few economic opportunities for the thousands of natives coming off rural reserves