Despite the needlessly offensive, and shamelessly attention grabbing, headline this in fact a tribute to the late Tony Hart, of art fame…
Tony “The Tony Hart” Hart learnt his trade as a Hart-iste at Maidstone Institute of Art and Design, in Kunt – thank you to the late Geoffrey Chaucer, of book fame, for the pun.

An insight into Tony’s young life is a Hart-warming tale of rags (worn by prototypical, non-conformist students of picture-instead-of-words persuasion) to switches (on your telly). As a young “creative” sort Tony, not to be confused with the television program Heartbeat starring Nick Berry, sat around drinking weak socialist tea, philosophising about pictures of things and mostly listening to The Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hart-s Club Band, and H-art Garfunkel – just as most left-wing Hart-throbs of his age did.

Hart long rebelled against the establishment, resisting the urge to join the masses that washed their clothes regularly, got their hair cut in a Soho bob style, and didn’t believe that ‘The Guardian’ was the newest of New Testaments from the long outdated ‘Holy Bible’. But, after a serious Hart-to-Hart with a career councillor, and when finally out of money to buy rolling tobacco, Tony thought he’d try his hand at an all together more credible, non-dosserish trade.

He initially dabbled in archaeology, but was fired far too prematurely because he spent far too much time drawing the Hart-ifacts instead of brushing them down with a very small brush, as he and his crew of nimrods should have been doing.

As a result Tony found himself penniless, easel-less and seeking salary security. Seduced by the “Girl in Every Port” billboard advertising of the post-war era, in 1951 he joined the Royal Navy as an apprentice Hart-illery gunner. He wanted to be a Hart-breaker for life – “don’t leave your girls around me”.

However, Tony’s time as one of her majesty’s finest sailsmen was short-lived, after a mere 7 months at sea a medical officer discharged a still young and seemingly-virile Tony after finding he suffered from severe Hart-burn as a result of clogged Hart-eries – our man obviously enjoyed a Hart-y English breakfast or two.

At this point we must step back and reflect. It is hard to Hart-iculate the unprecedented impact that his discharge from the Navy had upon his life. Tony, returned, Hart-upon-sleeve, to Maidstone, Kunt, where he found work upon a little-know Hart-based show entitled ‘Hartbeat’, of telly fame.

It was on Hartbeat that the great man truly blossomed, making “okie-dokie Hart-ichokie” his charming catch-phrase for studio and living room audiences all across the nation of Kunt. Audiences between the ages of 4 and 7 years were left Hart-in-mouth trying to render the range of Tony’s skills as they watched him bring modern H-art into the well, modern, era.

Despite suffering from Hart-thiritis Tony’s hands remained the tools of his trade until his dieing day. In a Hart-rendering display of acknowledgement, Tony was buried with the product of his legacy – Morph. Morph for those of you unaware – meaning you are likely to be under the age of say, 22, and more than likely a result of Hart-ificial insemination (had to work hard to fit that in) – was a small character made from plastensine. “Woop-di-doo” you might say; and rightfully so.

Tony Hart was a man worthy of more than my mockery. And, from the bottom of my Hart I apologise for my cheap, juvenile, and Hart-less bashing of a keyboard.

He was a man wrongfully attributed with starting the H-art Deco movement – the popular international design faction; with creating the very-yellow cartoon phenomenon H-art Simpson and for once making up 50 per cent of World Wrestling Federation tag-team ‘The Hart Foundation’.

He was, however, a man rightfully attributed for creating the original design for the Blue Peter badge, and whom Boris Johnson has pledged the building of a new ‘H-art gallery on London’s South-West-East Bank in memory of the man.

I know what you’re thinking. This may well be the most mediocre Hart-icle you’ve ever read, but if I was Simon Amstell reading this out-loud from an auto-cue you’d all be laughing your nipples off. Just because he’s got a silly girly-man physiche and big, curly hair you could lose a moped in…

Tony Hart died aged 83 years, sadly never to see the full potential of AI (Hart-ificial Intelligence). A heartfelt apology for any offence caused.