Faceache: New paperback edition of the sold out edition of the long lost classic from the hugely popular and long running Buster comic: The First Hundred Scrunges: 1

I loved Faceache and comics from the 70s ,Shiver and Shake,Cor,Buster,Whoopee.This brings back great memories and at a great price

As a nipper, I was one of very few readers who loved the short-lived weekly comic "Jet", which lasted a mere six months in 1971 before the dreaded "See inside for exciting news, readers!" message appeared on the cover of issue 26, and we found out inside that "Jet" was "merging" (i.e. being swallowed up) by the more established "Buster". In practice, what this meant was that the more popular features from "Jet" would now appear in "Buster".First among those was, of course, "Faceache". I'm not sure if "Jet"'s other reader realised that Ken Reid's strip would go on to last for donkeys' years and come to be considered one of the masterpieces of British comics art - I certainly didn't, though with the passing years it's the "Jet" feature I remember with most clarity - but such was the unlikely legacy of the otherwise doomed "Jet".Faceache - the first 100 episodes of which are collected here, including the 26 from "Jet", followed by strips from "Buster" running into early 1973 - deserves its reputation. Reid's art is astonishing and genuinely laugh-out-loud funny. I don't remember laughing aloud at it when I was 9 or 10, but I do so repeatedly when turning to this book. The cover alone is a fantastic pick-me-up.The set-up is simple. Faceache is gifted with an exceptionally flexible fizzog which he can "scrunge" into a bewilderingly diverse selection of hilariously repellent appearances. In each single-page instalment (don't go looking for continuity, this is a British kids' comic gag-strip from the 1970s and such a concept was unheard of) he uses this unique talent to (a) make money through some devious scam (b) get revenge on someone or (c) get hold of free food. Things rarely work out as hoped for him. His adventures are populated with a stock cast of familiar stereotypes (do I earn a place in Pseuds' Corner by pointing out the resemblance between 1970s kids' comics and Commedia del Arte?) such as parents who insist their rules be followed at all times, toffs, weedy kids, bullies, cane-wielding teachers, omnipotent coppers and permanently irritable Scotsmen. As is also routine for British comics of the time, supernatural phenomena occur with considerable regularity.What makes all this work is Ken Reid's superb, unique art. His only rival as a comedic illustrator of the genuinely grotesque is the American Basil Wolverton, but Reid is a better craftsman. His line is bold, clear and precise, and his use of solid blacks for contrast and visual interest is faultless. And his imagination is genuinely astonishing. The faces pulled by our hero are weirder than anything in Bosch, but considerably funnier, and Reid appears to have never repeated himself. Faceache is labelled "The boy with a hundred faces", but that's a considerable understatement. And they're all so damned funny!While connoisseurs of comics art have long praised Reid's art, it's also worth noting that his scripts are also funny. He transforms every "-ing" word-ending into an "in'" word-endin', drops most of his aitches, and frequently can't be bothered with the "f" in "of". He has a rich vocabulary of slang and colloquialisms which were already old-fashioned in the early '70s ("twit", "hooter", "blitherin'", "batty", "cor!" and the like). These were standard for British comics of the time but he piles them on so relentlessly they becoming dizzying, a wonderful verbal counterpoint to what no less an authority than Alan Moore - Cor! Only the greatest flippin' writer in comics history! - calls the "brilliant, giddy, metamorphic rush" of Reid's art in the introduction to this 'ere book. Moore's introduction is charming, insightul and very funny (and, incidentally, an elegant refutation to all those comics fans who slag him off for being "miserable" because he dares point out the shoddy business practices of the comics industry). As well as Moore's introduction, the book also includes a memoir of his father by Reid's son Antony, which shines further light on what it must have been like to work as a hugely creative talent in an industry which basically saw you as an assembly-line operative in a sausage factory.The book is laudable for its production values. Although it's an inexpensive paperback, it has a firm, durable cover, and the beautifully white paper shows Reid's exquisite line and black-spotting to the finest possible effect. The only flaw is - because of the book's historical verisimilitude - it includes 16 episodes drawn, for reasons unknown, by artists other than Reid. They do their best to imitate him and their efforts aren't bad, but they're substantially inferior in terms of their linework and imagination, and, above all, their inability to reach his level of grotesque hilarity. But that still leaves 84 pages of Ken Reid at his best, and, let's not forget, we're dealing with an artist who, if his work had appeared somewhere more prestigious, such as MAD or the American underground comix, rather than "Buster", would have near-legendary status among comics fans the world over and not just among those who remember the British comics of half a century gone. That legend can still be built, though, and this book, which must be the comics-related bargain of 2020, shows exactly how much Reid merits such status.