Most of the rest of the world doesn’t understand why we have a king. I’m not sure our population does either. It’s not as if I sit about all day in fancy robes with a crown on my head. Quite the opposite; many is the day I’ve wandered along the high street of some provincial town without as much as a glance from the other shoppers. Even at official functions, the dress code is a suit, a clean tie (colourful but not brash), well-shined shoes, and a clean white shirt. We describe ourselves as a ‘democratic monarchy’ where all are equal. Except I’m not allowed to vote, which doesn’t worry me too much since I’m required to maintain a façade of political neutrality, whatever the idiocies perpetrated by the elected leaders. I’m on first-name terms with most of them, though there’s none I’d invite home for dinner. Of course, we…