Two royal stories haunt the ether: continuing speculation as to whether Prince Harry will marry Cressida Bonas and thus facilitate the transformation of the younger generation of royals into a more profligate, and entirely human, version of the Sylvanian Families toy tableaux; and the far more interesting, and therefore unlikely to be as widely reported, appearance of Sir Alan Reid GCVO, keeper of the privy purse, in front of the public accounts committee next Monday. For one day only, the Queen's accountant will ride out of the dark.

If the appearance of William Nye, aide to Prince Charles, in front of the committee in July is anything to judge by, it will be a whisper in the wind. The presence of these men at Westminster is the price paid for a 2011 deal that enriched the monarchy: when the civil list was replaced by the sovereign support grant, which doles out 15% of the profits of the crown estate, the royal family had, at least theoretically, to answer to the committee, who want to know if they offer "value for money". It is the wrong question, but the right one – why do we persist in the constitutional equivalent of dancing round a stone? – is not in the committee's remit. Even cracked nationalism has a price, and the royal family, in pursuit of funds, is happy to pay it.

British royalty, backed by an abject government and horizontal media, is in full inglorious resurgence; the more we smash the poorest, it seems, the greater the desire to exalt the richest.

Diana, the film about the late Princess of Wales, the woman who did most to expose the private dysfunction of the family, showed us nothing except bad dialogue and wigs. Tiny Prince George was named top of the London Evening Standard's Power 1000, which apparently makes him the most influential person in London despite his being unable to speak, which is a better metaphor for attachment to monarchy than the authors probably realised. Larger Prince Harry was mobbed on his recent visit to Australia, for being a youngish man of ancient lineage in possession of great wealth. Was his costumed homage to Richard Gere in An Officer and a Gentleman unconscious?

Much nonsense was written about the "democratisation" of the royal family when Prince William married the girl born in Reading of a mother called Carole, but this is bunk. Nothing has changed, except that the royal family grow fatter every year. The pressure group Republic estimates that royal expenditure has increased 94% in real terms in 20 years; in 2014, they will receive £37.89m, a 5% increase on the year before. As the Duchess of Cambridge regards the vastly expensive renovation of her new home, apartment 1A in Kensington Palace, formerly the lair of Princess Margaret, her voice is now posher than her husband's.

Polls say that monarchy is popular and will endure, but how reliable is this data when so much of the truth is hidden from us? (Copyright, Diana.) The BBC, so often derided as a nest of Marxists, reverts to conservatism when broadcasting about monarchy; they may have made fools of themselves with the jubilee coverage, but they were loving fools. The daily newspapers, with only a few exceptions, are prostrate when discussing the royal family; all other media seem blinded by the clothes, which are gaudy, but do not amount to a rational political system.

The government, meanwhile, is busy enriching them; perhaps the most noxious element of the 2011 deal ensures that no matter how the crown estate fares, the royal family will never receive less than the year before. When the markets do not provide, the state will; even the Financial Times was disgusted.

Another deal exempts the senior royals from the Freedom of Information Act, so we cannot see the way in which – contrary to the lie that they adore us and never talk of anything except our welfare, and perhaps dogs – they operate as a profitable business, entirely dedicated to self-interest. In 2004, courtiers attempted to secure a community energy grant, aimed at the low paid, to heat the royal palaces; they only desisted when it was pointed out how bad it would look. (Now the FOI rules have been amended, we will not hear of these schemes.) Did the Queen know? ("If only Comrade Stalin knew of our misery!") Browse the situations vacant in the royal household. Some positions offer little more than the minimum wage: the exposure of the royal household's use of zero-hours contracts this summer was a scandal that fizzled and died. Conscious of how bad things do look, the royals occasionally spin, although limply, because they do not need to do it well: the Duke of Cambridge would not, it was announced, have a butler when he married. "He and Catherine will live without domestic staff, and they wouldn't do it any other way," we were told, with ponderous melodrama. Now they have a butler. And a valet. And a nanny. And so on.

Will this be pondered at the public accounts committee? Sir Alan Reid will likely squirm as the absurd travel expenses are aired: the royals are allergic to public transport, which could merely be a smart attempt to make a royal 747 ("Heir Force One") appear cost-effective. But, for a republican, royal "value for money" is ever a red herring – what price the state?

Twitter: @TanyaGold1