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Queen Elizabeth's phone in

What does 66p get you these days, other than a disappointing day out at Poundland?

Well, it just about covers the expenditure of the Queen per annum, assuming we saps loyal subjects all chip in. 

The monarch’s personal yoof advisor Sir Alan Reid, Keeper of the Privy Purse - the Queen's accountant - compared it to the cost of an iPod download "for those with a technology or youth bent". Right on Alan, I always try to keep my youth bent.

But it seems this meagre handout, representing £40 million, is not enough for the cash hungry octogenarian. Apparently the 264th richest person in Britain, whose personal fortune is an estimated £320million, is too cash strapped to patch up the palaces.

Despite recently adding a drive-thru McDonalds to her portfolio Her Madge doesn’t have the moola for a happy meal.

Of course her first thought was her loyal populace. As we are in such robust financial health at the moment with lots of spare cash just sitting around doing nothing why not bail out the sour-faced corgi botherer?

But how to rake in the dough? Send out Wills in a helicopter? Get Charles to ride from town to town on his horse (sorry, Camilla)? Rig Diana’s bones up to dance a hilarious jig every time a shiny penny is placed in the slot?

No. This is the 21^st Century. The Royal Family must move with the times. What’s the modern way to screw the plebs out of their hard earned lucre?

Phone in.

If Ant and Dec and Simon Cowell can do it why not Liz? A £1 per call phone line with all money going to the roof fund or whatever is clearly a stroke of genius.

Why not go the whole hog and have the event televised over many, many weeks with Cowell fronting the show? Minor royals could audition with hilarious results before we get the heavy hitters left at the end. Voters could then pay to see Charles tossed off by a courtier or something.

Call it the Rex Factor.

Or for the more lateral of thinkers, have a premium rate number to call and listen to a personal plea and thank-you from Her Majesty. Then she would tell you what she was wearing “One is in a crown and nothing else. One is dripping like a fucked fridge”. The longer they stayed on the line, the more they'd donate, as it were.

Unbelievably the idea was shelved. Reid sadly said, “I suggested a phone-in for the public to vote but I was told that would be tacky. The phone-in could have been interpreted as a vote of confidence, or censure, for the monarchy.”

Or in other words, someone realised that the villagers were more likely to turn up at the gates with torches and pitchforks than wheelbarrows of wonga.

A shame for many reasons. I for one would love to pay to leave a short message of support for our glorious monarch.

Two words, rhyming with Duck and Toff.