Welcome to Tentacle Tuesday! We now have an official logo for T.T., courtesy of my husband and fellow blogger. It’s brand-spanking new, so here it is in a fairly high resolution.
Give him a round of applause… oh, what’s that, it’s hard to applaud with tentacles? Okay, a round of « squish, squish », then.
Let’s begin (proper) with « The Thing on the Roof », adapted by Roy Thomas from a story by Robert E. Howard. The latter was a member of the renowned Lovecraft circle, so the Chthulian vibe of this is no accident. It’s illustrated by Frank Brunner, who does a bang-up job – the man was asked to draw the love child of a dragon and an octopus, and he did not disappoint!
The Thing on the Roof from Chamber of Chills no. 3 (May 1973, Marvel.)
Continuing in a similar vein (but fast-forwarding 40 years), here’s a terrific story from Bart Simpson’s Treehouse of Horror #19 (September 25th, 2013) which is so chock-full of tentacles that it could be a post all by itself. Written by Lovecraftian Len Wein and illustrated by Demonic Dan Brereton, it ranks as one of the top Treehouse comic stories as far as I’m concerned… but then I might be slightly biased. Or possessed by Chthulhu, whichever.
I want a Lovecraft vacuum cleaner. *hint, hint*In this story, *everything*, animate and inanimate, sprouts tentacles.The dramatic/sublime/ludicrous wrap-up! Sorry to give the plot away. Yum, they even remembered to stick an apple in Milhouse’s mouth (it keeps him from screaming, I suppose). Did Lisa forget she’s a vegetarian?
I couldn’t help but post at least three pages of this story – hell, I was tempted to post it in its entirety – but I’ll let you do the work. Go read the whole thing here.
And to wrap up, let’s go back half a century or so, to the Miss Horrible Entity 1954.
This striking cover is by L.B. Cole, who can always be relied on to provide us with some eye-popping colours. He’s also got a knack for depicting especially disgusting, moist and fleshy tentacles, don’t you think? Startling Terror Tales no. 10 (August 1954).
What I want to know is who, upon being startled by a cephalopod cyclops with vampire fangs and one very bloodshot eye, describes it as an “entity”? “Monster”, sure, even “beast” or “demon” or “creature”, but “entity” (defined as “a thing with distinct and independent existence” by Webster’s)? If you’re going to be *that* stuffy, maybe you deserve to get eaten.
This is the slimiest, creepiest day of the week: Tentacle Tuesday. Hurrah, hurrah, all hail the Chthonians.
It would be a long post indeed if I tried making an exhaustive list of comics in which buxom females are being groped by grabby tentacles. Still, let’s make a (small) dent in this category. Here’s three candies with sweet fillings of adventure, fun, and sex.
Let’s start things slow (but entertaining) with this playful octopus from Virgil Partch‘s madcap pen.
Liberty Magazine, 1946. Frankly, I think she’s better off with tentacles than with the unshaven and blasé Mr. Smeech.
Next up, we have Brenda Buckler who seems to be rather enjoying her captivity. Tous les goûts sont dans la nature!
« It’d been a long time since anyone touched Brenda. As the dry, scaly tentacle encircled her body, it touched something deeper than flesh… » Eerie no. 60 (September 1974), painted cover by Ken Kelly (a gallery of his paintings can be found here).
Plot spoiler: the tentacled monster is actually her husband! Ain’t nothing wrong with bestiality as long as it’s sanctioned by the holy institution of matrimony. Brenda is the protagonist of the cover story, “The Man Hunters”, written by Gerry Boudreau and illustrated by Wally Wood (with colours by Michele Brand). Don’t worry, though: there’s a happy ending in store for her (aside from the whole “watching your shipmates eaten alive by a giant monster” thing). Moral of the story, never underestimate the erotic potential of “filth-encrusted tentacles”.
The wrap-up for today is scanned from a comic series I just finished reading, The Rocketeer: Hollywood Horror by Roger Langridge as author and J. Bone as illustrator. It was published in 2012, and collected as a paperback and hardcover in 2013. Aside from the healthy helping of tentacles it serves its readers, this comic features some top-notch writing from Langridge and some nice art. I don’t pretend this stuff is deep, but it’s a pleasurable romp with pretty girls, evil scientists, and a goofy-but-lovable hero. Recommended for some fun reading (although I admit I spoiled it a bit by featuring two of the main action pages)…
I like a girl who can admit when she needs rescuin’.Am I the only one that feels sorry for the monster, even if it *is* a robot?
Greetings. Today’s theme: purple tentacles! (No, that’s not a euphemism.)
First up on our list is this beauty of an octopus, the Octo Rod.
This intrepid purple fella is part of Topps’ 1980 series, Weird Wheels, which had 55 cards in all. The credit for the gorgeous artwork is split between Norman Saunders and Gary Hallgren; nobody’s quite sure which artist worked on which card, and whether Saunders actually painted the images himself, or just retouched paintings by somebody else.
Sadly, Weird Wheels just didn’t sell all that well, so you can still purchase them for fairly cheap today. You can see the whole set here (and please do feast your eyes on them, they’re quite stunning).)
Octo Rod is no. 21, 1980. The art is by Gary Hallgren, at least according to David Saunders, Norman Saunders’ son.
Speaking of David Saunders and his dad, here’s a quote from “Norman Saunders” (a book written by David in 2009):
« In 1980, at the age of 73, with failing eyesight, cataracts, and advanced emphysema, Norman Saunders defied doctor’s orders and went back to work on one last card set. Weird Wheels are painted with full control of his creative powers, but with a morbid humor that reflects his attitude towards mortality. When reprimanded by his son for risking his life on low paying work, the artist said, ‘It’s fun! I gotta keep working! What the hell else am I gonna do?!‘ »
Saunders passed away in 1989, at 82, after a remarkably prolific and varied career.
Moving on, here’s a thrilling scene of purple tentacles vs Nemesis:
This is ACG’s Adventures Into the Unknown no. 157 (June-July 1965). The cover is by Kurt Schaffenberger (who signed as Jay Kafka here). “Case of the Tittering Texan” sounded intriguing – I figured that the Texan was being tickled by a tentacle – but no, he’s just a stuttering, crazy, power-hungry villain in a cowboy hat and spurs. Same old, same old…
I would also like to mention that Nemesis *is* wearing pants (well, shorts, at any rate), but his costume is still gosh-darned stupid. You try wearing a hood under water and see how far it gets you. I’m normally a fan of ACG‘s Adventures, but Nemesis is by no means a favourite character of mine.
Further developing the theme of violaceous violence, here’s another:
« Giant squid, giant water rats! Are we in New York, or are we on Mars? Down here, it’s hard to tell! »Ghostly Haunts no. 31, April 1973, cover by Jack Abel.
“Sewer Patrol”, the cover story, is also illustrated by Abel, with an excellent script by Nicola Cuti – it’s a story about people who dump their pets (and still-alive food) when they don’t want them anymore… and where and how these pets end up. (The answer to that, of course, is “mutated, gigantic and in the sewers.”)
Today’s Tentacle Tuesday features octopuses in water where, after all, they generally belong.
We open the festivities with a scene from Japan, the undisputed motherland of all things tentacular. As a bit of an aside, for those wondering what’s up with up with Japanese tentacle porn, there’s an interesting theory that suggests that the latter was just a way to avoid censorship and obscenity charges when drawing erotic manga.
According to hentai artist Toshio Maeda talking about his experience in the mid-80s, “At that time pre-Urotsuki Doji, it was illegal to create a sensual scene in bed. I thought I should do something to avoid drawing such a sensual scene. So, I just created a creature. His tentacle is not a penis as a pretext. I could say, as an excuse, this is not a penis; this is just a part of the creature. You know, the creatures, they don’t have a gender. A creature is a creature. So it is not obscene – not illegal.”
For now we’ll stick with this G-rated page from Panorama Island.
From The Strange Tale of Panorama Island, a graphic novel by Suehiro Maruo, based on the novella by Edogawa Rampo, the Japanese Edgar Allan Poe and godfather of Japanese detective fiction.
Next in line is this cantankerous beak-mouthed octopus, actually Magica De Spell transformed (which explains why the creature appears to be wearing mascara – waterproof mascara, of course).
Uncle Scrooge no. 193, February 1982. Pencils by Pete Alvarado, inks by Larry Mayer. (This one’s a variant cover with a white Whitman logo.)
The last of Tentacle Tuesday for this week: a snippet of a rather gruesome story, in which a scientist transforms a poor, city aquarium-dwelling octopus who was minding his own business into a terrifying man-octopus creature who runs amok. In the end, the octopus reverts to his normal form and kills the scientist. (Justice, if not particularly poetic.)
The first panel of “Arms of Doom” from Harvey‘s Black Cat Mystery no. 32, 1952, drawn by Rudy Palais. So… how exactly is he going to destroy an entire city? He has 6 arms, all right, but he’s only human-sized, if a bit stronger than a normal man.
You might think that tentacles are just something that happens to other people, to the intrepid swashbucklers and globetrotters of this world. But watch out! No matter how dull your job and how stodgy your lifestyle, no-one is safe on a Tentacle Tuesday.
Let’s say you’ve embarked on a normal working day in a bustling city. No ravenous tentacle will be able to reach you as long as you stick to main streets, you think. Right? Wrong.
One would think New Yorkers would be immune to being fazed by *anything* found in NYC sewers. Cartoon by Charles Addams.
All right, let’s play it safe, call in sick and stay home.
Mother Goose and Grimm is a syndicated comic strip written and drawn by Mike Peters, published both in newspapers and online. Syndicated in 1984, it’s still going strong. Spoofs of modern culture, screwball comedy and dogs on blind dates, it’s all in there. Jan. 23, 2015.
Dang! How about going to a conference, instead?
Comic habitués will easily recognize the talented pen of Gary Larson, and identify this as a Far Side strip.
Sigh, I give up.
As today’s Tentacle Tuesday happens to coincide with Halloween (can this day get any better?), I’ll leave you with an image that gleefully combines both:
I don’t know how Little Lotta manages to control all these tentacles when she only has two hands – maybe she’s in symbiosis with an octopus? This is Little Lotta in Foodland no. 27, August 1971 (okay, so it’s a masquerade party, not a Halloween one – cut me a little slack!), cover (as usual) by Warren Kremer.
~ ds
Some content on this page was disabled on June 30, 2022 as a result of a DMCA takedown notice from Gary Larson. You can learn more about the DMCA here:
Today’s Tentacle Tuesday comes to us courtesy of France and its long-suffering neighbour, Belgium. There’s an easy joke one could make about the reputation Frenchmen possess of having hands like grabby tentacles, but instead I’ll concentrate on their wonderful comic writers and artists and the classic bande dessinée. Let’s gracefully step over all the obscene connotations of a “French edition” and delve into exhibit A:
“So that’s it, your real face?” asks the old man. “What were you expecting?” asks the emerald-eyed cephalopod. This is a page from Les chercheurs de trésor, volume 2: La ville froide, David B. (2004, Dargaud).
David B. is the nom de plume of Pierre-François David Beauchard. Non-Francophone audiences might know him from Epileptic, an autobiographical graphic novel that won accolades and awards from an international audience. And yet it’s not his most interesting œuvre, as far as I’m concerned. Although Epileptic is full of imagery and allegories, it’s when David B. lets his imagination soar without the constraints of real life that he creates his most dazzling worlds and astonishing stories. He’s one of those rare comic artists whose art is as accomplished as their storytelling.
Here’s a bonus “tentacle” from Monsieur B.:
La lecture des ruines was published by Dupuis in 2001. (It loosely translates to “reading the ruins”, “study of the wreckage”.) It’s the story of a mad scholar who tries to find a mathematical equation for violence in the decayed rubble that war has left behind. Excerpted material from an imaginary periodical is appended, Les incidents de la nuit (Incidents of the Night). This tentacled worm – Le Grand Ver, the Great Worm – is one of the creatures that lurk within…
Give a hand of applause, ladies and gentlemen, to David B., and let’s move to our next topic.
“Sorti des abîmes” translates to something like “Risen from the abyss” – and what sort of thing rises from an abyss? Why, tentacles, of course!
Tif et Tondu: Sorti des abîmes (1972)
Tif and Tondu, an intrepid team of private investigators, were originally created by Fernand Dineur, but their most popular incarnation is by writer Maurice Tillieux and artist Willy Maltaite (who mostly went by the nickname Will), which is what you’re currently admiring. The strip saw birth in 1938 in journal Spirou and lasted a whopping number of years, ending in 1997, one year short of its 60th birthday.
Things are a bit tricky with the numbering, because Tif et Tondu are popular enough to have been anthologized several times. Sorti des abîmes appeared as the series’ 19th entry (1972), after being serialized in Spirou no. 1746 (September, 1971) to no. 1764 (February, 1972).
A closer look at the creature from the abyss: not exactly an octopus, but in distinct possession of tentacles. “Armed and dangerous”, as they say! The poor thing is dissolved at the end of the story by some infrared rays.
Incidentally, “Tif” is slang for hair in French, and “Tondu” means “shaven, sheared”. Naturally, Tif is the bald guy, and Tondu is the hairy one.
Now that we’ve had our fill of scary, destructive tentacles, I’ll move on to something friendlier.
Pif Pocheno.72 (Aug. 1971) The last panel says “Paws off… Don’t touch! You’ve got cold hands!”Pif Poche no.72 (Aug. 1971) “This creature is starting to annoy me with its tickling!”
Pif the dog was the mascot of the kid’s magazine Pif Gadget (« gadget » referred to the fact that each issue of the magazine was accompanied by some thingamabob to amuse the youngsters). Pif Poche were pocket-sized collections of short Pif strips, as well as jokes, games and such. The character was created by José Cabrero Arnal in 1948, who gradually abandoned the strip by the 1960s while other artists took over.
Pif Pocheno.72 (Aug. 1971) “Even in a can… I adore seafood! Ripoff… it’s octopus!” Story and art by Arnal’s immediate and worthiest successor, the prolific Roger Mas (1924-2010)
Before midnight strikes and this Tentacle Tuesday waves us a teary goodbye, I shall endeavour to demonstrate that octopuses are vicious, grabby little miscreants who, in their quest for food and fun, don’t discriminate between species!
Oh, what the hell, I’ll just give three examples.
Here’s an octopus attacking a duck (to be more precise, a super duck, which is nevertheless gastronomically similar to its plainer cousin):
Super Duck Comics no. 5, Fall 1945, published by Archie Comics back when they were MLJ. Cover by Al Fagaly.
And here’s one attacking a gorilla… err, sorry, ape.
This is Planet of the Apes no. 15 (December 1975). Art by Bob Larkin.
It’s perhaps worth mentioning that French auteur Pierre Boulle wrote “La planète des singes” in 1963; the latter was translated as “Monkey Planet” in the UK and as “Planet of the Apes” in the US. (For once I’m with the Americans; “ape” sounds considerably more threatening than the childish “monkey”.) Marvel put out both a magazine (29 issues) and a comic book (12 issues) in the 70s – though frankly, there are so many comic tie-ins for this franchise, that I have nor the knowledge nor the desire to figure out what’s what or when or by who it was published. I’ll stick with the “tentacles, girl in bikini, pretty art” bit, though.
And here’s our last scene for today, an octopus attacking a bear. Actually, on the cover it’s unclear whether it’s attacking or protecting the bear, but having read the story, I can assure you that the pink cephalopod has bear meat on its mind.
Treasure Chest of Fun & Fact, vol. 10, no. 14 (March 19, 1955). The cover story, Pearl Divers, is scripted by Eric St. Clair and illustrated by Paul Eismann.
Treasure Chest of Fun & Fact was a Catholic comic book series distributed in parochial schools from 1946 to 1972… surprisingly, it’s often lots of fun, and occasionally within its pages one stumbles onto the work of a well-known artist like Murphy Anderson.
So whatever anthropomorphic species you may be, remember, don’t get your tuchus too close to the grabby tentacle of a hungry cephalopod!
Meet an old man’s pet, Poochy. Like most pets, he gets a little impatient and loud around mealtime, but forgive him – he’s just a healthy animal who needs his calories. Who’s a good boy?
It’s Tentacle Tuesday, and today’s offering is this barking mad (hehe) and delightfully nonsensical story with script and pencils by Jim Starlin and inks by Wayne Howard.
« The Hotel » is a mere 2 pages long, so here it is in its full and unabridged glory:
This is no plebeian octopus. This tentacled horror, this mutated dog-like atrocity, is a force for moral good, dammit, dishing out all the punishment these evil-doers deserve! (Or maybe it’s just hungry.)
This tale of woe comes from Weird Mystery Tales #4 (Jan.-Feb. 1973), with a cover by Jim Aparo. It re-interpreted the story somewhat, making the thug’s comeuppance a little more immediate, but it’s still the same basic plot device: there’s the Deus ex machina, and there’s what I call Sudden Tentacles. Don’t know how to wrap up your story? Bam! tentacles out of nowhere, and everyone forgets that your tale makes no freaking sense.
Continuing this rather disturbing theme of stay-at-home octopuses, we have another contender for someone’s beloved pet: this sweet little (metaphorically speaking) guy from « Dum-Dum’s Basement » (Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery #93, August 1979).
Art by Mel Crawford. Dum-Dum’s pet will soon want flesh instead of fish! (I also like how some people don’t give a shit about having a permanently flooded basement.)
Then we have the prototypical Sudden Tentacles and set at home, too: this panel from a chilling Tom Sutton and Nicola Cuti story called « Those Tentacles! » (inventive title), published in Ghostly Tales #106, August 1973.
“The tree branches remind me of those tentacles… those slimy, winding tentacles squeezing the life from Jake!”
There’s a scene in Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors (at 3:55) that quite terrified me as a kid – a girl reaches over a sink to turn the water on, and the tap sprouts… appendages… and grabs her hand. I wish Freddy Krueger was into tentacles, I would have spent fewer sleepless nights in my youth.
Wishing all of you peaceful nights of slumber… until the next Tentacle Tuesday rolls around – and it will.
This itty-bitty octopus will haunt your nightmares.
Tuesdays sure roll around quickly, but that’s okay – another week, another fresh batch of prehensile, slimy tentacles for our enjoyment. I’ll open Tentacle Tuesday with an “oldie but goodie”. (Speaking of that, I have an irrational pet peeve: comic shop owners who, upon seeing a customer carefully clutching a stack of 70s comics he meticulously unearthed from a grimy comic box stashed in the darkest corner of the store, say, with a slightly condescending grin, “oh, you’ve found some oldies!” The comment is no doubt well-intentioned, but there are nicer ways to start the conversation.)
And a-one
First on the list for today is this painted beauty by Pat Boyette, from Haunted no. 19, December 1974. Just look at those shiny, healthy tentacles – just the kind to gently grab your ankle and drag you into murky waters. Their diaphanous keeper doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, either.
This issue is worth picking up for more than its cover. It remains excellent when one opens its pages: there are three stories, and they’re all worthwhile – the beautiful “The Unholy!” by Pete Morisi (PAM! PAII!) (written by his son, Steve Morisi, and therefore unfortunately not making a lick of sense), the moody “There Ain’t No Hell!” by Sanho Kim and Joe Gill, and, the cherry on the cake (and story on the cover), the quietly-elegant-but-with-tentacles “The Keeper”, illustrated by Boyette (and also written by Joe Gill).
“You bawled me out many a time for not feeding your pets, your lordship… this time, they’ll feast!”
And a-two
Just like octopuses (who eat small crabs and scallops, as well as snails, fish, turtles, crustaceans, and of course other octopuses), I like a little variety in my diet, so number 2 is humorous rather than scary. How did this octopus manage to figure out which of its tentacles to stick into shorts? Who’s the happy little slug with chickenpox holding up letter “A”? Why does an octopus have beaver teeth?
This is Ha Ha Comics no. 66 (Jun – Jul 1949), published by American Comics Group, or more technically Creston, an imprint of ACG. This seems to be a rather rare issue, unavailable on Comic Book Plus although they have pretty much every other issue of Ha Ha. Thanks to an Ebayer selling this comic, however, I can state with some degree of certainly that this issue features – as advertised – an all-star cast, featuring not only the habitués Izzy and Dizzy (a pair of trouble-prone mice), but also Anthony & Cleopatra, the Impulsive Imps, Robespierre, Hard-Hearted Hannah, Wigglin’ Willie the Worm and Shilly and Shally. Doesn’t it all sound like some sort of battle of the bands? As for the artist of the cover, it’s Dan Gordon, storyboard artist and film director mostly known for his work at Famous Studios and Hanna-Barbera Productions – he did quite a few “funny animals” titles for ACG.
And a-three!
T.T. number 3 is colourful. It also leads to the question “vegetable, mineral or animal?” These tentacles seem to be rather plant-like… if plants had eyeballs attached by blood vessels.
Judging by the adventures of Space Family Robinson, most planets are inhabited by aliens with tentacles. One would think that they’d be very well prepared for this eventuality (not to mention kind of bored by it), but no, the tentacles always take them by surprise.
Apart from tentacles, this has some of my other favourite things: a pterodactyl (or at least some creature approximating a pterodactyl), a vibrant sunset, and eyeballs.
This is the back cover of Space Family Robinson no. 9 (Gold Key/Western, August 1964), which is just like the front cover minus the text. Painted by George Wilson, who has a nice sense of colour. (Hurray for saturated colours in this sepia-and-grey or orange-and-teal world.)
In the beginning, oh, long before that. When light was deciding who should be in and who should be out of the spectrum, Yellow was in trouble. Even then it seems that green, you know how green can be, didn’t want yellow in. Some silly primal envy I suppose, but for whatever cause, the effect was bad on yellow. And caused yellow to weep yellow tears for several eternals, before there were years. Until blue heard what was up between green and yellow and took green aside for a serious talk, in which blue pointed out that if yellow and blue were to get together, not that they would, but if they did (a gentle threat), they could make their own green. “Ooh”, said green with some understanding. Naturally, by a sudden change of hue, green saw the light and yellow got in. Worked out fine, yellow got lemons and green got limes.*
Once upon a time (or, more precisely, a handful of years ago), we started a little weekly celebration of tentacle glory in comics and called it Tentacle Tuesday. (My husband came up with that alliteration; I hope he’s willing to share the credit for this pithy little phrase with others, as I honestly don’t know whether he was first to dream it up. By now, #tentacletuesday is a hashtag and there’s a Facebook page with that title). Yet “real life” (read: “a sad existence tragically devoid of octopuses”) got in the way, and although we’ve often thought about Tentacle Tuesday, no offerings were made at the Octopoda altar. We’d spot some glorious tentacles while reading comics, and wistfully dream of sharing them with a like-minded audience, but the impulse would pass, leaving behind vague but lingering regrets.
Well, we are back. Let’s keep Tentacle Tuesday going strong, for after all, comics and tentacles are among the universe’s greatest achievements. Let the cephalopod fiesta begin – we welcome you to this blog’s first-ever installment of Tentacle Tuesday!
Our first offering features, quite naturally, a Welcome Mat leading to a trapped, angry octopus, who seems to be indignant about being stuck in a pit with a bunch of uncouth, plebeian imaginary monsters. Claws, pincers, and talons, razor-sharp teeth and dendritic horns? Ha, *he* has tentacles! And if the other denizens of this trap are purely monster-under-the-bed material and act as if they’re drunks at a party, Mr. Octopus here is a professional who takes his job of being terrifying seriously.
This is a pin-up, if I may call it that, by the easily identifiable Sergio Aragonés, scanned from DC’s House of Mystery no. 189 (Nov./Dec. 1970). The giggling guy is Cain, the so-called host of the House of Mystery, and is every bit inclined to betray and double-cross as his Biblical namesake. Incidentally, number 189 is an excellent issue: Eyes of the Cat, with art by Jerry Grandenetti and Wally Wood, is both gorgeous and scary, with bonus points for prominently featuring a black cat (which Neal Adams made look like a rat on the cover – if you don’t believe me, try http://pencilink.blogspot.ca/2008/05/house-of-mystery-189-neal-adams-cover.html ) It is followed by The Deadly Game of G-H-O-S-T by Leonard Starr, and the issue wraps up elegantly with The Thing in the Chair with art by Tom Sutton.
⇔
In a slightly different vein, but equally lighthearted, is this cover of Abbott & Costello no. 16 (Aug. 1970, Charlton). I hope our readers shall be too polite to point out that Tony Tallarico, the artist, made tentacles look more like elephant trunks, or that this… creature… has but four of them, which would make him probably the only quadripartite octopus in existence (they’re supposed to have 8, for those of us who are a little hazy on the specifics). Now, if only Charlton paid by the tentacle rather than by the page…
This comics series was of course based on the American comedy duo of Bud Abbott and Lou Costello, of early 40s and 50s fame. Fast-forward to 1967, and with Costello having long passed on (in 1959), the pair was miraculously given a new, two-dimensional lease on life (hey, you take what you can get… comedy’s a vicious game!) through the auspices of Hanna-Barbera Productions, and Charlton landed the comics licence and ran with it… for a healthy twenty-two issues. The first eight or nine of these, featuring the madcap talents of artist Henry Scarpelli and (especially) scripter Steve Skeates, are the ones to seek out. You have been warned!
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