The Aristocrat Formerly Known as Prince

Farage supporters say they hate unaccountable elites. Reform voters rage about being ruled by people they didn’t elect. Right-wing populists across Britain rail against the establishment – the civil service, the judiciary, the BBC, the EU – branding them corrupt, elitist, and out of touch.

But ask them about the monarchy – the most unelected, unaccountable institution of all – and suddenly the outrage dries up.

This is the paradox at the heart of British populism. The very people who sneer at elites still kneel, metaphorically if not literally, before a crown. You see it again and again. They demand referendums on everything from immigration to street names. They scream about democratic deficits and unelected officials. But when it comes to the Windsors, they go misty-eyed with sentiment. They defend the monarchy as the soul of the nation, as if the country would collapse without a gold coach and a balcony wave.

It’s not about logic. It’s about the comforting illusion of continuity – the fantasy that somewhere, above the chaos, there’s still an old-fashioned Britain ticking along nicely under the bunting.

But the illusion is fraying.

Queen Elizabeth could just about hold it together. She was silent, apolitical, and distant. She didn’t say much, and that’s exactly how the monarchists liked it. But now we have Charles – a king with opinions. He speaks about climate change. He supports interfaith dialogue. He bangs on about architecture, organic farming, sustainability. For those who idolise tradition but fear modernity, this is heresy.

They call him woke. As if thinking ahead is an act of betrayal.

These are the same people who once insisted the monarchy was above politics – and now they want the monarch to shut up and reflect their views. They don’t want a king who thinks. They want a royal ventriloquist dummy in tweed, frowning on cue and keeping his mouth shut when it matters.

And then there’s Andrew – the one who did the real damage. The aristocrat formally – and now very much formerly – known as Prince.

He didn’t just disgrace himself. He torched the institution’s moral standing. The monarchy didn’t act swiftly or decisively. It protected him. It hoped the storm would pass. It watched as public trust seeped away. And when he finally surfaced, he delivered a catastrophic interview that made a mockery of justice and exposed the Palace’s priority – preserving the brand, not upholding standards.

This wasn’t a hit job by republicans. It was self-inflicted rot, carried out in plain sight and sealed with a £12 million cheque to make it go away. If the monarchy feels tarnished, it wasn’t Netflix that did it. It was Andrew – and the suffocating silence that followed.

And still, the flag-wavers refuse to connect the dots. They demand accountability everywhere else – but not from the people born into palaces. They rage about unelected power in Brussels, but defend a head of state who got the job by emerging from a royal womb. They claim to hate privilege – then excuse it when it wears a crown.

This isn’t principle. It’s selective reverence. It’s not a hatred of elites. It’s a hatred of the wrong kind of elite – the ones who challenge them, not the ones who flatter their nostalgia.

So yes, they’ll keep singing the anthem. But the cracks are spreading. The King says things they don’t like. The spare brought shame on the institution. And the man who used to be a prince left behind a wrecking ball of entitlement, arrogance, and disgrace.

The monarchy didn’t fall from grace because of outsiders. It rotted from within. And the people who claim to hate unearned privilege are still too busy saluting to notice.

Let them wave their flags. Just don’t ask who paid for the pole.