The basic maths shows that due to not a lot of people being around back then and a lot of people being around now, we could trace our family trees - with enough time and money - back and find ourselves connected to a royal, a Cromwell, a famous painter or frankly whomever we fancied. Research suggests we would all find a common ancestor around the 1400s, where each of our individual webs would eventually cross paths.
"Descent" is meaningless after a few generations. Literally, in fact, as after a few rounds their DNA is diluted and then gone anyway, so for those who want to believe their love of plush velvet is clearly due to their Royal connections... nope.
It seems a peculiarly English thing to waste energy wondering where we came from, because we have this lack of national pride that makes us consider ourselves quite dull. We conjure up ideas of the 'exotic' other and long to find some mere scrap of evidence to claim we are different, special, better than the heard. A Russian 8 generations ago. A minor Lord 16 generations ago. Oh, well, makes all the difference.
I also don't understand why people have such short memories and have collectively climbed up Danny Dyer's arse over this show. Can we all remember he once 'advised' a writer to his column, who was asking for advice on how to get over his ex-girlfriend, to 'slash her across the face so no one else will want her.' And now he's the nation's fucking darling?