At first glance he's just a typical GP. He can scrawl a script for the Pill or burn off your skin cancers with the best of them, but his talents go much deeper than that. You see, Channel Ten only have the budget for one medical practitioner per program, fictional or otherwise, so no matter how dire the medical situation is, Dr Karl must handle it.
For example, old gravel-throat Madge Bishop recently found out she's got cancer. YES, CANCER! Madge is gonna die, woo! Now you'd think there'd be a crack team of specialists there to give her the prognosis (NEGATIVE!) and run all sorts of tests. But no! Dr Karl did it all. Minor surgery, counseling, liver transplants, nothing's beyond his scope.
And this of course was just after he'd nursed Lou back to health after the crotchety old bastard did his back in.
Which was closely followed by Dr K moonlighting as a footy trainer for the Erinsborough Dingoes. Can you imagine anything more wonderful than staring up at him through the veil of mild concussion, resplendent in his tracksuit, Dencorub in hand, asking How many fingers can you see?
And another a time, a kid fell down a hole in Ramsay Street that I personally would have left for dead, but no! Dr K to the rescue! He doesn't mind any old person barging into his home in the middle of his chops and veg to request medical help. What an ambassador for the medical profession!
Years ago Lou's wife, the obnoxious fat chick with the enormous red hair, got mowed down by a car. Ding dong, said I, the wicked witch is dead. But soft! What apothecary by the curbside breaks? It is the noble Dr Karl!
Luckily that old trout died anyway. But it goes to show how versatile Dr K can be. I think he even tried to save Bouncer the Dog when it got run over, even though this incident occurred about 10 years before he joined the cast.
God bless that Dr Karl. His medical prowess is unsurpassed. He's there to cut the cord and slap your arse when you come screaming into the world, and you can be assured he'll be there right there to wrap you up in a nice white sheet when you depart. He'll probably even pop you into the back of his station wagon and drop you off at the morgue on his way home. Now that's service.