I grew up terrified that the Queen would pop round to our house. My grandparents, who brought me up, had lived near Sandringham and knew many ordinary staff on the estate. They thought this gave them special access to royalty, as much access as a working person could possibly have. “When the Queen comes round,” they used to say, “if she says she likes something, you have to give it to her.” You also had to walk backwards, apparently. The fear was in me. This strange woman would come round and take my Tressy doll, maybe even my felt tips. A horrific thought.

Needless to say, my grandparents were monarchists and talked of the sacrifices the royals made during the second world war. They had all the special plates and cups. My mum had a pash for Margaret, princess of smoking and turbans.

I grew up and became politicised, thought about democracy, and everything changed. I assumed everyone else would think the way I did. Surely anyone with firing synapses would feel that no advanced society could be ruled by people of no discernible talent, intelligence or life experience? The idea that an accident of birth determines the head of state and church – and the public then has to fund this genetic lottery? Madness.

But over the years I have seen many sensible people of leftish persuasion scuttle off to the palace for a garden party or to accept a gong. They do it not for themselves, but for their mums. Wear a fascinator to get feudal, dears. (Although all men need is a suit.)

Would an elected head of state be better? Yes, actually

Only saddos like me, the sort of people who tell small children Santa isn’t real, moan about the monarchy as well as the Lords now. (Admittedly, the Lords often has better discussions than anything that goes on in the Commons – but then so do most sixth forms.) We all know how the argument goes: you don’t like hereditary privilege? Well, do you think an elected head of state would be better?

Yes, actually, although yes, it’s also great that the Queen can get on a horse at 93. At least she isn’t a menace on the roads.

Even at 14, I assumed most people would not want to live in the utterly infantilised state of being a subject. At one stage, I went to lots of meetings about republicanism and dry constitutional shakedowns and I was patronised by experts who told me Diana’s disruption was not the right kind: she was disturbing the narrative by not accepting its rules, that Charles could have an affair. The way to get rid of the monarchy had to be highbrow and political; it should never be personal. Or, actually, cultural.

By then we were all ready to embrace Blairite meritocracy, at a time, ironically, when social mobility had stalled. The tabloid press was locked into a symbiotic relationship with the royals, which meant the monarchy had to operate absolutely as an embodiment of virtue/vice and as a soap opera of dysfunction. What it cannot survive now is indifference.

So here is Prince Andrew, essentially dethroned. His sin was not his inhumanity, but giving an interview about his inhumanity. Remember that when you start defending his mother. Meanwhile, Meghan has been treated as a villain for combining princessiness with stardom and being biracial.

If the monarchy is supposed to represent this deeply divided country, its representatives are failing dismally, unless you count owning half of Scotland. In an age when we no longer like billionaires, the queen’s net worth is £20bn. If the old are to be blamed for Brexit, they also support the monarchy, which, according to YouGov polls, only 41% of 18-to-24-year-olds do.

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Power tends to shapeshift and if a new country is struggling to be born out of this election and the broken political system that has produced it, then at some point dots need to be joined. Andrew was not one bad apple. He comes from an orchard that produces them.

The undeserving rich. When the Queen goes we could decide to grow up, become a mature democracy and move into a world that is truly post-empire. The pretence of a United Kingdom could give way to something truly great. We could, finally, get up off our knees.