Patrick Freyne - Prince Philip: The Plot to Make a King

Who could be more British than Philip Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg? His job is to shuffle a few feet behind the queen, looking like a militaristic version of the BFG, impressing the locals with his chummy chauvinism.

The monarchy has changed since prince Philip lucked his way into it. Nowadays the UK press are obsessed with hipper royals such as Wills and Kate, with their aspirational dullness and on-trend baby. If it weren’t for that terrifying 1930s toddler that follows them everywhere, the large Doberman that appeared with him, and those footmen who keep going missing (It’s not his fault! He’s only a child!), they’d pass for any nice young couple who’ve moved to your street and annoy you for reasons you can’t explain.

To some extent, royals are just like us. Apart from their 18-month gestation period, the sharp “egg tooth” they use to chisel out of their shells and the nine-year hunting/feeding/ slumbering cycle, royals are physiologically no different from normals (even their tails drop off eventually). It’s just they also represent a sacred bloodline that nominally rules the Britons, reminding them that their worth is measured in postal codes and glottal stops and the demented accidents of chance.

The entertainingly detailed Prince Philip: the Plot to Make a King (Thursday, Channel 4) uses newly sourced documents to argue that Philip's ascension to consort was a "high-stakes dynastic power struggle" orchestrated by his uncle, Lord Louis "Dickie" Mountbatten.

Philip was the state-less scion of deposed Germanic Greek royals, but his uncle was well ensconced in the British establishment. We see him in jazz-soundtracked footage drinking from comically large bottles, doing a Monkees-style walk with a row of lords and generally living the life of a carefree toff who ruled India and knew Gandhi (sitcom pitch: “Dickie!”: Viceregal hi-jinks featuring Gandhi as a wacky neighbour).

Olden-days celebrity cameos
Gandhi isn't the only olden-days celebrity cameo. Philip's sister Sophie married an SS man and hung out with Adolf Hitler. The soundtrack becomes less jaunty over these photos. Her face says it all. "This is a really good idea," it says. "I will not regret this."

Philip spent more time with his uncle in England. “My uncle Dickie has ideas for me,” he wrote. Dickie’s first idea was that Philip should change his name from Philip Schleswig- Holstein- Sonderburg-Glücksburg to Philip Mountbatten or, even better, Philip Britishy- Not-A-German. He went with Mountbatten. His second idea was that that Philip Britishy- Not-A-German should marry his third cousin Elizabeth.

Mountbatten is described several times as “playing cupid”, which I initially took to mean he dressed in a nappy and fired arrows at strangers (because he’s an aristocrat and can do what he likes). But no, it meant he made sure to place Philip in Elizabeth’s company at regular intervals and fostered their burgeoning romance (possibly in a nappy with a bow-and-arrow, it’s unclear).

Philip was not popular among sniffy courtiers. A turban wearing queen-mum didn’t approve. And Churchill hated Mountbatten because he “gave away India” . . . which is the wrong reason when you think about it.

Ultimately, however, a foreign name, post-colonialism and being one degree of separation away from Hitler are minor obstacles to monarchical matrimony. Royalty is basically Crufts for humans, an elite breeding programme designed to churn out interesting-looking heads of state unlikely to survive in the wild. This pool was limited to a succession of incestuously connected families (most derived from spores emitted when Queen Victoria exploded in 1901). It was probably a choice between Philip or the king from the King crisps packet.

Luckily, Elizabeth fell in love with him, because she had a thing for Quentin Blake illustrations. So they had a big Disney wedding in which everyone dressed in robes like in Eyes Wide Shut and the union was blessed before the panoptical eye of whatever many-tentacled deity they worship (Cthulhu? Baal? Sauron?). Then the existing king died and the new queen started doing whatever it is queens do (I don't know, but according to Wikipedia: "[A] queen of quality stock can lay about 1,500 eggs per day").

First foot-in-mouth
"The house of Mountbatten now reigns," said Mountbatten, his dream realised. Yes, he genuinely said this, providing the first historical opportunity to quip: "Oh dear. Did I say that out loud?" This annoyed the Windors so much the queen retained her family name and rejected Philip's makey-up one. He sulked for years until the extended family became Windsor-Mountbatten, at which point the welfare state was in full swing for people other than ousted Greek princes.

Nonetheless, say the royal- watchers, he’s very good at his job of walking a few steps behind the Queen. We watch footage of him doing this for a while. No one mentions the fact that if she’d married Rod Hull and Emu, the country would have continued to function in more or less exactly the same way.