For the record, this newspaper has nothing against pork butchers from Norwich. In fact, some of our most valued readers are butchers, others are from Norwich. But on the whole it is preferable that Rolf Harris’s portrait of the Queen has turned out to look genuinely like Her Majesty rather than a Norfolk porkhand, as the artist initially feared.

There will doubtless be a collective groan from the fine art establishment that this ever energetic Australian who introduced a generation of British children to “art” through speed cartoons was let loose on such a stately subject as the Queen, and for such a landmark occasion as her 80th year. At least there was no question of his having to ask at yesterday’s unveiling: “Can you tell what it is yet?” But quibbling about the craftsmanship, the depiction of Her Majesty’s fingers or Mr Harris’s impressionistic style misses the point. The painting succeeds because of its honesty. Mr Harris believes the result “looks like your favourite auntie”: hardly surprising, because he set out in search of personal warmth and humanity rather than regal airs or ceremonial pomp.

Decrying the choice of craftsman is also off beam. An artist with several sets of initials after his or her name might have produced a more scholarly and “lofty” work. But the Queen is far more aware of the likely reaction than the caricatures of her would suggest. She is witty, crafty and, dare it be said of a monarch, a tad iconoclastic. There was never a downside for the head of the Royal Family in agreeing to sit for someone who has spent much of the past few decades popularising art. Let the snobs carp.