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I drew quite a lot of little fellas with thick glasses and combovers the other day and had no idea who they were or where they came from - until I realised they looked exactly like Michael Howard, former leader of the Tories. So here are two very small, slightly naked Michael Howards looking at each other.
This is a very well brought up octopus. It probably know the right way to hold a variety of cutlery implements, the proper way to address a retired archbishop and the names of all the kings of England, including all the German ones.
A man sings, a chicken with a chick on it's head listens attentively. The chicken could either be extremely polite, entranced by the performance or completely deaf. Hard to tell, really.
Now, this is what we're talking about. A short, monobrowed and slightly psychotic little fella and his mildly puzzled friend. Both wearing flower hats, of course.
They're clearly annoyed. I'm guessing the tall one because he's got an exceedingly outdated floppy fringe/goatee combination, and the short one, well... because he's short. It could always be because they've got no clothes, though.
A little bit too happy, perhaps...
In the 19th century French toffs top trumps this man would be like Sócrates on the 1982 world cup top trumps: top of every category, but for goalkeeping. Talleyrand, managed not only to survive but made a pretty good living before and during the French Revolution, through to Napoleon's reign and a few kings aftewards. Notice how he keeps his elegant countenance even when performing a little dance.
Not a dude this one. This is supposed to be the big man's missus, Josephine. On the floor we see either a very small lion, a carefully tonsured poodle or one of those funny puppets that street puppeteers make out of used plastic cups and string. Hard to tell.
Fouché, who was kind of around right after the Revolution, through to Napoleon's reign and then afterwards in the Bourbon restoration (not to be confused with the end of the alcohol prohibition in the US).
Having drawn the man himself, logic dictated I should draw some of his friends. We start here with Murat, not only one of the little fella's general but also his brother-in-law. Notice the menacing brow and unsheathed blade (it might be a spoon, actually).
For some reason I drew our grumpy little Corsican friend in what I can only assume was a grumpy little meeting. Unlike the famously mercurial prince, though, most of the meetings I go to tend to be more like a little old lady called Gladys, from Hazelmere. Nice, slightly bumbling, ultimately inefficient and mildly irritating after a little while.
Once the world's greatest footballer, now a (very) tubby, middle aged, man of leisure. Still, producing what is probably the best mini-afro to be worn since the late Seventies is no mean achievement.
A triangle and a square. One angry, one mildly puzzled. What could they be looking at? A circle? A line? I think that amount of inconvenience would more likely be caused by a dodecahedron.
This is much more modern, I'm guessing late 19th century. Nothing like a man with a cane and cravat.
A more gentle fella than the last one. Maybe some sort of late middle-age Burgundian troubadour, or an estate agent. Hard to tell.
This one seems ready for war. He might have trouble hitting something with his stubby arms, but you never know, so better watch out.
