One of Banksy’s most direct interventions on the British monarchy: the official portrait of Queen Elizabeth the Second, except a chimpanzee stands where the queen should be.

The composition follows the rules of an official royal portrait to the letter. The figure stands in profile, wearing a crown, ceremonial dress and jewellery, its posture solemn and composed. It is exactly the same template we see on coins, on stamps, on the walls of government offices. The only thing that changes is the face placed inside that template.

The joke works precisely because of this fidelity. Banksy does not distort the portrait, does not warp it, does not turn it into a caricature. He keeps the whole protocol and changes only one element, and this reveals just how thin a shell the monarchy’s visual authority really is. The crown, the fur and the jewels produce the same meaning no matter who wears them. What carries the meaning is not the person, it is the costume.

This is why the monkey figure appears again and again in Banksy’s visual language. In Laugh Now it carries signboards, in Devolved Parliament it sits in the House of Commons, and here it sits on the throne. Each time it asks the same question. Is what builds this hierarchy really some kind of superiority, or simply who happens to be sitting in which seat?

A single change of face turns an image carefully built over centuries into a joke.