Like some grotesque affront to the prevailing zeitgeist – seemingly unaffected by the momentous forces sweeping across the globe and doggedly holding onto its ‘divinely ordained’ right to rule, the institution of monarchy – in all its international guises – casts a revealing luminosity over any pretence towards our being equal in all things.

Cordially we are invited to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee of HM Queen Elizabeth II, to indulge our patriotic sensibilities in a florid display of ‘tacky’ bunting and ‘jolly’ street parties – the regal strains of William Walton’s “Crown Imperial” floating gaily over the assembled throng; anointing each and every one of us with its associated splendour.

“Hurrah!” the plebeian masses shout in unison, “God save the Queen!” Filled with a blend of misty-eyed pride and copious amounts of John Smith’s Extra Smooth (Other alcoholic beverages are available), the ringing endorsements coalesce in a rose-tinted reverie – carefully manipulated impressions fermenting in the collective unconscious.

With the effusive celebrations finally drawing to a close, the last drops of mawkish indulgence long since wrung dry, we can congratulate ourselves for having so enthusiastically embraced this meticulously scripted pageant – to know that the spectre of republicanism, with its bizarre notion of a society founded upon democratic values, has been kept at bay.