ROLF Harris was determined to make Her Majesty smile. But when she walked in to sit for her 130th portrait, almost none of which have her smiling, she was rather stiff. So Rolf began the patter.
No, he didn't ask, "Can you tell what it is yet?" as he slapped strokes of blue paint onto the white canvas. Instead, he wondered whether she minded the smell of turpentine.
