The debate itself on radio 4 was well balanced and it’s been interesting reading the points of view here.
I am personally of the view that the monarchy is a complete anachronism. I hope that many of those who have expressed discontent will turn that into positive action. The organisation Republic just reported that they have received an uptick in membership requests.
Along with other Republican commentators, I want to add this from the wonderful Sue Townsend back in 2001 from her book, The Public Confessions of a Middle Aged Woman aged 55 1/2’.
Prince Charles for King?
I've had this theory for some time. I've kept it to myself so far because I fear public ridicule. I feel like the person who, many hundreds of years ago, first ventured the opinion, ‘Er, do you think it might be possible that er… the earth is… er, actually round instead of er… flat?’ So bear with me, will you? My theory is this: I think Prince Charles would be relieved if the institution of the monarchy was to be brought to an end. I have no evidence to put before you; I am certainly not on intimate terms with Prince Charles. In fact I am not on any terms with him. Nor am I likely to be. But I have this feeling. On the face of it the job of king looks quite attractive. The money is extremely good, the holidays are long, you get to see the world, you don't have to worry about missing your plane because of roadworks on the M25 – your plane waits for you. Come to think of it, if you are king, what are you doing on the M25? Why aren't you in your own helicopter, flying above the traffic-bound masses? When a king reaches his destination he doesn't have to lug his baggage under a scorching sun towards a taxi driver who is picking his nose and wiping his finger on the upholstery. No, a king is led by flunkies towards an air-conditioned limousine that proceeds to drive along streets closed to normal traffic due to ‘security’. There may be a little light waving to be done to the gaggles of flag-brandishing schoolchildren fainting of sunstroke on the pavement, but there is no danger of straining the royal wrist: for just as children from ordinary backgrounds are trained by their parents to open the top of a cornflakes packet without mangling the whole box, or to empty a pedal bin without scattering eggshells underfoot en route to the dustbin, so are royal children trained, almost from birth, to perfect their wave to the crowd. Other advantages of being king are… meeting world-famous figures; having twenty-four hour room service (every day); and having a book written about you with a cover photograph that depicts you as being a deeply serious, anguished individual. Already bowed down with their future responsibilities, kings are able to leave home knowing that somebody will feed the pets and that the video won't be stolen. They don't lie awake at night worrying about class, agonizing, ‘Am I upper-lower-middle?’ or ‘Am I lower-working scum?’ Kings can confidently assert, ‘I am upper, upper, upper' and know that no British person will contradict them. When we wore lizardskin shoes and lived in caves, I suppose it made sense to have a king, somebody who bossed us about and made sure the fire was kept going. In medieval times we were told that the king had been ordained by God and that a touch of his royal digit would cure us of our disgusting, scrofulous diseases. We also believed that the earth was flat and that mangel-wurzels were delicious. In other words, we were ignorant peasants who lived in hovels and did not have the advantage of public libraries. It's hard to be king in the late twentieth century. The public is so much more sophisticated. Babies are now born knowing how to programme the video to record Rosie and Jim. Let us now look at the disadvantages of being king: Travel You are met off the plane by a collection of late-middle-aged men in new suits, who sweat with nervous tension as they are introduced to you. Their handshakes feel like decomposing fish. They are nervous because you are the king. Meeting the famous Most famous people are boring. They only want to talk about themselves and constantly interrupt when you want to talk about yourself. The only reason they agree to meet you is because you are the king. Your biography Because your biographer comes from that ancient dynastic family the Dimblebys, you feel obliged to tell him all your innermost thoughts on the deprivations of your miserable childhood. You forget that your mother and father can read and that a good thrashing, a cold bedroom and poor food constituted the childhood of most British people born in the Forties. So you fail to get any sympathy and in your heart you know that the book has been commissioned, written and published because they think you will be king. One day you say to yourself, ‘I have not been ordained by God. I am human and I want to be free.’ Like I said, it's only a theory.