Reforms need to be radical if they are to revive an institution that has been dependent on the personality of the present monarch for its survival

As the climax to the Queen's 80th birthday celebrations she will host a tea party at Buckingham Palace on 25 June for 2,000 children, attended by Postman Pat, Bob the Builder, Mary Poppins and the White Rabbit, among others. There are even suggestions that the Queen herself will take to the stage as part of the line-up, although the Palace has yet to confirm if she will play the Queen of Hearts or something more anodyne for the 21st century.

There is something quite grotesque about the symbolism of this event: a whole new generation of young people inculcated with the idea that our royal family is merely a harmless entertainment for the masses. And, as we wait for the festivities to unfold, we witness the embarrassing spectacle of her majesty's loyal media tripping over themselves to prove that deference is not dead. The television networks planned their birthday tributes years in advance and the newspapers (republican as well as loyalist) set aside acres of newsprint to mark the occasion.

We are not a republican nation, despite hopes to the contrary in some quarters immediately following the death of Princess Diana in 1997. In the mass hysteria that marked that event, we witnessed a fierce, yet temporary, hostility towards the House of Windsor. But this never translated into the groundswell of support for the abolition of the monarchy that some predicted at the time.

The New Statesman has taken a consistently republican position as a matter of principle, but it would be absurd to argue for abdication or revolution in the face of such clear public support for the institution. Since deference officially ended at the close of the Sixties, the proportion of the public in favour of a republic has stuck stubbornly at around 20 per cent. This magazine has been characteristically reformist in its prescriptions for the monarchy and we continue to believe it must adapt or wither. There could be no better time to debate the future of the monarchy as Elizabeth II prepares to hand over the reins to her successor (a process already beginning behind the scenes).

But these reforms need to be radical if they are to revive an institution that has been heavily dependent on the personality of the Queen for its postwar survival.

The present monarch has been rightly praised for removing herself almost entirely from the political life of the nation during her 53-year reign. The nearest we have come in recent times to a publicly expressed opinion was her unpatriotic comment that she believed Paris would win the 2012 Olympics and not London, and even that was entirely uncontroversial at the time.

There have been times when some on the left might have welcomed the Queen being more robust in her advisory role: during the Suez crisis, for instance, or as the present Prime Minister prepared for war in Iraq. But we should be glad she resisted the temptation to intervene.

There is, however, no reason to believe her heir would be so coy. The recent high court case over the publication of Prince Charles's personal travel journals revealed that he sees himself, in the words of one former adviser, as a political dissident. The Prince's legal action against the Mail on Sunday confirmed that he writes regularly to government ministers, attempting to influence policy on pet subjects such as the environment, new technology and education. However, any attempt by the public to gain access to this correspondence is blocked by a special royal exemption in the Freedom of Information Act.

Charles has given reassurances that he will follow his mother's example and cease meddling in politics when he becomes king. But there is only convention to stop him and it is difficult to believe that Charles would be able to control the habit of a lifetime. As a tribute to the Queen and in preparation for the succession, the government should think seriously about framing legislation to establish beyond doubt that the monarch should never interfere in politics.

Even better, the Queen should use her residual powers (in this exceptional case we would forgive her intervention) and propose such a law as her birthday gift to the nation, to protect our children from her own, less reliable, royal progeny.

Guess who!

Is there no end to our appetite for self-disclosure? We thought we'd had every type of memoir, from models describing their sex lives to accounts of horrific upbringings. But now we have a new variant, the disguise memoir, two of which are reviewed in Spring Books (see pages 44-57). The NS is concerned by this, not least because books about women pretending to be men or restaurant critics donning false moustaches don't tend to be much good. However, with some rethinking, we think the disguise memoir might have a future. Here are three we'd like to read: Light Relief: my year working undercover for the Hurricane Katrina salvage operation by George W Bush; Blonde Ambition: my year pretending to be Chantelle by Peter Bazalgette (chairman of Endemol, producer of Big Brother); and Domestic Misfortune: my year cooking for five children with no branches of Waitrose within a 100-mile radius by Nigella Lawson.

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