It is unnerving to walk into a gallery and see all your deepest fears and anxieties splayed out across the wall, but that is the power of Robert Crumb. Now he is being celebrated in an ultra-high-end London gallery, with pages ripped from his notebooks and framed up like the finest of fine art. It’s classic Crumb: skinny men quivering with worry and fear and hormones in a cruel, uncaring, senseless world – filled with towering women in thigh-high boots, obviously. Crumb is obviously worthy of being shown in a swanky Mayfair gallery, but equally, there is nothing wrong with comic books. “There’s no end to the nonsense,” it says in big letters on one wall downstairs, and let’s hope not.