Let me start here. I’m not a rabid anti-royalist. I’m not polishing a pitchfork or practising republican chants in the shower (although I do sing Billy Bragg’s ‘The World Turned Upside Down’ a fair bit). I understand the argument for a constitutional monarchy. I understand soft power. Tourism. Continuity. Pageantry. Hats.

Fine.

But it is 2026, not 1826. And if we are going to keep the Royal Family, surely it’s time we shrank it to a size that is properly accountable and financially transparent, like any other major institution operating in this country.

If Dave’s Plumbing Services in Andover has to file its accounts on Companies House for the world and his dog to inspect, why shouldn’t an institution that receives public money, controls vast estates and claims to generate national income be held to at least the same standard?

If It Brings In Money, Show Us

We are constantly told that the monarchy “brings in more than it costs”.

Brilliant. Excellent. Marvellous.

Let’s see it, then.

Open the books properly. Itemise income. Detail expenditure. Lay out the land revenues, the tax arrangements, the offshore interests, the estate structures. Not glossy summaries with careful wording. Proper numbers. In black and white.

If the model works as advertised, transparency would strengthen the institution overnight. If it doesn’t, then at least we’d be having an honest conversation.

That doesn’t feel radical. It feels basic.

Do We Need the Full Medieval Starter Pack?

There could absolutely be well-paid ambassadorial roles for William and Kate. Smart, diplomatic, globally recognisable figureheads promoting British interests abroad. That makes sense. That’s modern. Corporate, even.

But do we really need quite so many working royals? Quite so many residences? Quite so much inherited land wrapped in centuries-old arrangements?

The Duchy of Cornwall, for example, controls huge swathes of land and property. It rents land to vital public services, so it’s actually taking our money away from hospitals and so on. It operates in many respects like a major commercial estate. Yet it can deny full public access to the details of its operations and offshore financial interests.

Why?

If it functions like a business empire, it should be scrutinised like one. You can’t have the benefits of modern commercial activity with the privacy settings of a 14th-century fiefdom.

The Same Rules as the Rest of Us

There is still a lingering sense that the Royal Family simply doesn’t live by the same rules as everyone else.

Different tax arrangements. Different disclosure standards. Different expectations. In any other sphere we would call that what it is: special treatment.

Meanwhile the rest of us submit tax returns, declare earnings, publish accounts, and get chased for 17p if we’re late.

We bow. We curtsy. We sing a song asking God to save individuals (I hate that subservient national anthem) who move between enormous residences, some of which are barely used, all while operating within a financial framework that would make most public bodies blush.

All in the name of tradition. Weird.

Tradition Is Not a Shield

Tradition is fine. Lovely, even. So are steam trains and village fetes. But tradition cannot be a shield against scrutiny.

If the monarchy genuinely generates wealth, prestige and diplomatic influence for Britain, then transparency should be welcomed. It would shut critics up in seconds.

If, on the other hand, the finances are more complicated than the glossy brochures suggest, then we deserve to know that too.

This isn’t about abolishing the monarchy tomorrow morning. It’s about resizing it. Modernising it. Making it accountable in the same way we expect every other institution in this country to be accountable.

Because if we step back and look at it calmly, in the cold light of a 21st-century democracy, the idea that one family sits in a parallel financial universe while the rest of us file, publish and pay…

It’s not treason to say it.

It’s just a bit bonkers, isn’t it.