Andrew Anthony: Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor’s arrest is the latest in a roll-call of dubious royal dealings

As a result, the mysterious spokespeople who surround the monarch have been especially busy. These faceless courtiers spend their time disseminating unattributable propaganda for the King. In recent weeks, the message has been twofold: the former prince should receive no preferential treatment from the law, and it was the late Queen Elizabeth II’s fault for indulging his excesses. It shows how rattled The Firm is when the judgment of the previously irreproachable Queen has been brought into question. But there is a lot of convention and money at stake.

Two longstanding royal practices are under particular pressure. The first is the officially sanctioned system of deference that turned a blind eye to Mountbatten-Windsor’s obnoxious behaviour. He didn’t believe the normal rules applied to him because so few people ever dared to tell him otherwise. The second is the secrecy that enshrouds the workings of the monarchy, particularly its murky finances. No one knows how much Charles III is worth: estimates of his private wealth vary from £640 million (NZ$1.44 billion) to £1.8 billion, but that doesn’t include the billions belonging to the Crown. Yet his behaviour often suggests he’s down to his last few bob.

A few years ago, before he became King, he got caught up in what looked like a cash-for-honours scandal. His most trusted aide, Michael Fawcett, was accused of arranging honours for foreign nationals who donated large sums of money to Charles’ favourite charity, the Prince’s Foundation. A major Saudi donor was awarded a CBE, contrary to normal practice, in a one-to-one with the then Prince of Wales in a rarely visited corner of Buckingham Palace.

The money went towards refurbishing Dumfries House, a Georgian stately home in Scotland that was acquired by the foundation. I recently paid the place a visit. It’s an impressive example of mid-18th-century Adam brothers architecture and boasts a world-class collection of Chippendale furniture. On its walls hang a number of old masters. Eight years ago, they were accompanied by several forgeries lent by a colourful character called James Stunt, the former son-in-law of Formula 1 billionaire Bernie Ecclestone. Having befriended Fawcett, Stunt received personal notes from Charles himself, thanking him for his generosity and support.

Some observers believe Dumfries House was used to place the royal seal of approval on the forged or, in other cases, misattributed artworks.

There are two explanations for Charles’ own role in all this. Either he was so desperate for contributions he didn’t bother looking too closely at what was going on, or he was cluelessly naive. Neither is a good look for a king.

Charles once said Fawcett, who had a chequered employment history, was the one person he couldn’t do without. Although Fawcett was forced to resign, no arrests were made and, despite a three-year inquiry, it’s far from clear whether these incidents were investigated with the rigour their gravity required.

Charles’ vulnerability to dubious donations and dodgy art makes it look as if he didn’t know where else to lay his hands on large sums of wonga. But we know his brother conjured up a cool £12 million to avoid court by paying off Epstein survivor Virginia Giuffre, so the royal coffers run deep.

Mountbatten-Windsor has now been unceremoniously dumped, but much of the rest of the cast of this overblown soap opera should follow him, along with their craven bowing enablers.