A Proper Rural Knees Up – The Average Brit’s Take on Constable’s The Hay Wain

Right, is this recording? It is? Fine. So, Apollo readers, gather round, it’s Del Boy Trotter, your man from the manor, here to give you the lowdown on this Hay Wain caper by Johnny Constable. Now, I ain’t no poncey art critic, but when them initiative blokes nabbed me mid-punt down Peckham, I thought, “Cushty, let’s have a butcher’s at this national treasure lark.” So, here we are, sizing up this painting what’s got the toffs all misty-eyed.

First off, this Hay Wain—it’s a proper rural knees-up, innit? You got this cart, looks like it’s nicked from Grandad’s allotment, stuck in a river with a couple of geezer horses. The sky’s massive, like it’s about to chuck it down any minute, and there’s all these trees and fields, greener than a dodgy fiver. It’s England, ain’t it? Pure, unfiltered Blighty, none of your foreign muck. Makes me wanna sling a barbie and crack open a pina colada down the Nag’s Head.

Now, Constable, he’s a diamond, capturing the countryside like he’s flogging it on a postcard. Them colours—lush greens, moody blues—pop like a market stall on a good day. You can almost smell the grass, feel the breeze, hear the river gurgling like Rodney after a vindaloo. What’s that? Who’s Rodney? Oh, yeah, right. He’s me kid bruvver and what you’d call a bit of a general dogsbody. He’d probably be better at this sort of thing, but e’s off polishing a job lot of “antique” vases that fell off the back of a lorry. And I mean they genuinely ended up all over Cerise Road. We’re gonna glue ‘em back together, good as new, if your readers want a good deal then they can come to our stall.

Okay, back to your painting. So, let’s be honest, it’s a bit too perfect, ain’t it? Where’s the real life? No rusty Cortinas, no geezers fishing for tiddlers, no Uncle Albert nicking apples. This is countryside for the posh lot, not us Peckham punters.

Value-wise, I reckon this canvas is worth a few bob—million quid, easy, if you know the right fella – I could easily connect you with said fella, of course. For the right fee, which we can discuss later?

But would I hang it in the flat? Nah, it’s too big for the lounge, and Marlene’d moan it don’t match the leopard-print sofa. Still, it’s a belter of a painting, makes you proud to be British, like a cuppa and a bacon sarnie.

So, Apollo, there’s my two penn’orth. The Hay Wain? It’s a lovely jubbly bit of art, a proper slice of England. Next time, though, get me on something with a bit more pizzazz—maybe a painting of a Capri Ghia. Bonnet de douche, you cultured lot!

Note: This article is a fictional/parodic homage to the cited TV show character. It is not affiliated with the character, or authored by the show’s creators, or any related entities. No affiliation is implied. Also, the Apollo magazine cover above is not an official cover. This image is a fictional parody created for satirical purposes. It is not associated with the publication’s rights holders, or any real publication. No endorsement or affiliation is intended or implied.

‘Canon Fodder’ is our shrapnel-streaked zone of cultural combat, where sacred cows of literature and art are gently led out back and…reconsidered. From brooding oil paintings to bloated book prizes, this section assembles critics, aesthetes, and barely concealed saboteurs to ask the hard questions: Is it genius or just large? Is that brushwork or branding? And why does every novelist now write like their agent is watching? Welcome to the canon—please mind the crossfire.