Scandal exposes the rotten state of our constitution

Jeffrey Epstein's ruthless capacity for spotting grifters and exploiting them for everything he could has also shown a weakness at the top of British society

- Alan Rusbridger

It didn’t take much. In one corner, a charismatic, manipulative paedophile. In the other corner, two ancient and barnacled pillars of the British state. The House of Lords and the monarchy are still standing, but both have taken quite the battering over the past week.

From beyond the grave, Jeffrey Epstein has unwittingly shone an unforgiving light on the make-believe structures that sit at the pinnacle of our constitutional arrangements. A dud prince and an iffy peer were both charmed and corrupted by their contact with the serpentine Epstein.

And now we don't know what to do about them.

Andrew is the greater embarrassment because he mocks the hereditary principle by which monarchs have been chosen since... was it King Aethelstan, in 927? He may be plain old Mr Mountbatten-Windsor now, but he is still technically the Duke of York and eighth in line to the throne.

A House of Commons Library briefing note on how Mr MW should be addressed reads like something out of Gilbert and Sullivan. Andrew is (still) the Duke of York by royal prerogative – that is, under powers held by the monarch using letters patent or a royal warrant. He could, but chooses not to, call himself duke, a title which will be kept warm for some future spare royal. But he's not allowed to call himself HRH, or “prince”. Same goes for Harry.

But it's trickier to extract Andrew from the line of succession because of some legal mumbo jumbo from 1931, which would require the consent of every other Commonwealth realm. Who knows how Tuvalu [pop 10,643] would vote? In Shakespeare, dodgy noblemen are banished to foreign realms. Today, we pack them off to Norfolk.