Britain should probably be a Republic...if the prospect wasn't quite so boring.

Having a king or a queen is obviously a very silly state of affairs. Particularly a powerless one. They say they work hard: opening things, visiting places, shaking hands. It probably is a hectic schedule, but it's not really work. It's like a wealthy housewife organising a cocktail party. It's not really about putting bread on the table, it's more about where the flowers go.

The second? More like Queen Elizabeth
the Phwoarth!

There's no danger for the monarchy any more. None of them will be killed in a cavalry charge, or beheaded by an angry parliament, they don't even seem set on abdication. They're turning into mild-mannered, media-savvy, perceptibly bored people who have to do a lot of standing around, congratulating people on growing vegetables. And they're getting older. So much older. The Queen is 87 and she could easily do another 15 years. Charles will be lucky to get a sniff of power before he's 80 and finally William might get in at 70! The days of pomp and circumstance and youthful regal splendor on coronation day are over. Now it'll be Stannah Stairlifts up to the throne as our new liege nods off during the ceremony, quietly unloading into a massive diamond-encrusted nappy. Some people want William to be the next king, to inject a bit of vigour into the proceedings, but frankly that's ridiculous. For one thing, the point about an absurd, anachronistic establishment is that you either do it properly or not at all. You can't just go chopping and changing as it suits you. For another thing, check out William's hair! Baldy! It's too late for him to be the dashing king. He has become another potato-headed royal. His pinup days are over. Centuries ago, the proud Clan O'Meara should have invaded England and taken the throne. Then my dynasty would be in power. Granted, there is a cruel whimsical streak in my family which would probably have morphed into despotism, but we do all have terrific, shiny hair.

Marrying Kate Middleton will not solve
the Windsor baldness problem.  He should
have married Macy Gray.

That's the problem though. You can't just go picking who you want to rule. Well, you can. It's called Elective Monarchy and in fact was quite big in the pre-Republic Rome, Serbia and a few other places, but it wouldn't work now. Now it would be called Britain's Got Monarchs or R-Factor and would be fronted by court jesters Ant and Dec and Simon Cowell would rig it to win anyway. Imagine that! King Simon I, the House of Cowell. Presumably he would take Davina McCall as his queen and they would buy the old BBC Television Centre and convert it into a mega-broadcasting palace where they would control all entertainment output, surrounded by guard dogs and laser towers and armour-plated ex-JLS members. And then we would get bored of his stupid face on our screens and yearn for repeats of Poirot and rise up, topple the mad king and have ourselves a good old fashioned beheading. 

Wow! I hope that happens. Yes, let's do that.

The thing about Britain is that we already have a fully-fledged democratic system which reshuffles every election. We've had it for ages. In a world which changes at a nausea-inducing pace, there's something reassuring in having the continuity of a Head of State. Even a ceremonial one. Certainly, the President of the USA has a certain amount of ceremony, they have a range of vehicles second only to International Rescue and their own sitcom-style intro music with 'Hail to the Chief' but the idea of a President Brown or a President Cameron is just depressing. The world probably doesn't need another post-industrial Western Republic. If Scotland were to gain its independence, even bolshie rabble-rouser Alex Salmond wouldn't rush for a republic. Tourists wouldn't flock to the gates of Number 10 to marvel at the changing of the policemen as one takes over whilst the other goes off to get a cup of tea and update their facebook status.

Look what Scottish independence could lead to!

Better to stick with our regal pot plants. Certainly, we water them with taxpayers money and place them in exquisitely grand greenhouses, but the fruits of tourism, royal branding and olde-worlde prestige means that they more than pay for themselves. They may be enthroned benefit scroungers, but they manage to put in far more than they withdraw. Even without tourism and business deals, The Crown Estates brought in £230.9m to the Treasury last year and Queen only received £32.1m from the state. Not too shabby. It also means that we can forgo the monumental costs of farcical Presidential elections.

The idea of someone inheriting position or wealth simply by virtue of birth is obviously a ludicrous idea, but the Western world is a celebrity-obsessed plutocracy. George W Bush is the perfect example of how the feudal model still thrives in modern democracy. The knuckle-dragging blockhead would have been lucky to make Assistant Manager at a Texan branch of Taco Bell if it weren't for the clout of his father. Queen Elizabeth's ancestors weren't always monarchs. It took one particularly ambitious Norman duke to make an aggressive takeover bid of England PLC and the rewards were passed to his offspring. And so it goes on.

So for now, let's keep rolling out the bunting, raise a toast and request that a probably non-existent god intercedes on the part of an impotent figurehead. As John Lydon said: "God save the Queen, cos tourists are money...and butter is surprisingly creamy."

So....are we all doomed or what?

There is a heavy sense of depression hanging around this morning. Three days of rioting have left everyone sleepless and slack-jawed. What the hell is happening? Is this the end of all things? Even the number of jokes buzzing around social media are a barmoeter of just how shocked everybody feels.

For me, and my sleepless head, I have that vague but overhanging sense of doom. My immediate reaction is to leave London, leave Britain, leave the planet, change species, blow my brains out. That said, recently I have had mounting woman-fuelled worries that have led me to want to leave London, leave Britain, leave the planet, change species, blow my brains out...so I may not be the best Test rat for this experiment.

Of course, nobody knows quite why this is happening. Why it's escalating is clear: The police are unable to keep the peace, the country seems a free-for-all, looting is inevitable. The politicians and police commissioners are largely way out of step (most Tuscan villas don't get BBC News 24). Headmasterly cries of 'unacceptable' and 'thuggery' are impotent and pointless. It's like putting Mubarak on the naughty step. Even Dianne Abbott, who has barged her way to the front of most interviews is using the language of 'disenfranchisement' and 'without a stake' and 'coalition cuts' which, whilst absolutely valid, will doubtless be scorned in the fury of rightwing, reactionary polemic which will inevitably follow all this.

It's tempting to get righteous about this: either from a leftish 'blame society' view or a rightwing 'blame the parents/ knock some heads together' frame of mind. For many this will be seen as the proof of all those Daily Mail scare stories: of a society that has lost respect, can't feed itself properly, has no morals, is being ripped apart by immigration, doesn't know what it stands for. Or maybe it's a bit more simple and bit less gruesome than all that.

Most societies are kept in check by law enforcement. In a large, liberal city where the forces of community, family and deference can't possibly keep people in check, centralised authority is a necessary evil. People don't like it, of course. For all the crowing about 'community liasions' and 'partnerships' the police are basically there to stop people from doing exactly what they want. For some parts of society, this may seem to impinge more on their freedoms than others. When you remove that force, people will do as they please. It's happened a million times in a million different societies, regardless of the culture, institutions and nicetities in place. An Indian fruitseller outside my house said "It shouldn't happen in this country." But we find ourselves particularly suseptible here. A majority of the trouble has been the looting of large department stores, the seizure of material goods, which young people have been told and fervently believe in an age of base materialism, will improve their lives and confer status but, rather cruelly, have high price tags attached. So will the rioting stop once all the shops have been looted? Probably not. The gate is open, the cork is out, the lamp is ungenied, the bag de-catted, the large jar of cliches has spilt onto the floor. A lot of troubled, restless young people have tasted a sense of power and catharsis which they'll be reluctant to give up.

The immediate solution is to impose curfew, roll out the troops and break the momentum of the disorder. People who despair now will find, for the most part, that life soon returns to normal  at a frightening rate. Once the news crews find something else to talk about, it'll be like it never happened. In the relentless redevelopment of London, no one will notice a bit more plastic sheeting and scaffolding. For some of course, the scars might last longer.

With all the speculation, all the miles and miles of columns and blogs, what could put an end to the rioting, anarchy, social discontent, materialism, amoralism, opportunism, criminality, injustice is a good, undemocratic, British showering. Trainers get ruined, plasma screens fizzle out, and tracksuit bottoms get clammy and tough to demolish shop fronts in. The rain won't wash away the problems, or collate the intangibles, but it will make everyone stop, say "Bloody typical" and return to a proper sense of Britishness - the unifying character we all seek to stitch this nation together: All of the rampaging malice, none of the weather to make staying outside for long a good idea.