Sergio Aragone's Groo is a childish, ludicrous figure. He is irredeemably stupid, slovenly, and clumsy, an intentional homage to Conan with all the heroic elements redacted. Much like another, more celebrated comic character, he is the best at what he does, and what he does is visit mindless mayhem on any poor souls unfortunate enough to enter his cheese-dip-redolent orbit.
Groo wanders the landscape in search of food, women, and glory, and despite (sometimes due to) his enormous shortcomings as an adventurer, he frequently finds all three. But Groo is not destined for lasting happiness or success, and he always manages to show that he is not ept. Inhabiting a world packed with Aragone's trademark lushness, peopled with weary bimbos and snide minstrels, Groo stumbles from one mishap to the next, bringing down empires and religions and the general intelligence of the reader. It's utterly insipid, delightful stuff. I highly recommend it.
And for dessert you may smell this piece of sugar.