I was watching The Crown with my wife and my mother-in-law (we’re taking it two episodes at a time) and a fugitive thought escaped from the part of my brain that is most unreliable.

What was happening on screen was this (and if you don’t want to know what took place despite it apparently being history, look away now) — it’s 1980 and Mrs Thatcher and Denis have been invited to stay for the first time at Balmoral. All the Royals are there, from the Queen Mother via Princess Margaret to Anne.

The place itself is gloomy, dark, full of stags’ heads, heavy furniture and disapproving Scots servants. It is situated near its own loch, provides plenty of wet, heathery walks up steep hills and —best of all — offers opportunities for shooting large stags with rifles. When they have been shot you can then put them, bleeding, over your horse and return to the castle. In the evening you can all get together in the third drawing room and play parlour games that no one else has ever heard of. And should you have a guest like the prime minister, then the most fun is not to warn them about the wet walks, the dead stags and the obscure parlour games, and therefore to subject them to social humiliation.

So, the fugitive thought was this. How different might this all have been if the Royal family were Jewish?

We don’t have much to go on. I’m sure some pedant will leap to correct me by invoking an obscure branch of the Fijian ruling house, but as far as I can see it’s some time since there was a kosher monarch.

And if we have to go back too far, then the omens for a visiting first minister are not great. If your spouse was rather too attractive to the monarch you could find yourself posted to the most dangerous part of some foreign war in the hope that you’d be killed and your other half would become available. However, on the positive side the problem of Princess Diana would easily have been solved in the reign of good king Rehoboam who had 18 wives and 60 concubines, who produced 28 sons and 60 daughters. In fact a good proportion of the Judean population must have enjoyed consanguinity with the king, which would rather have diluted the celebrity of any one of them.

Then you get to the Herods. In between Temple building and feasting the Herods are chiefly known for massacring the innocents and for rewarding erotic dancing with the severed heads of house guests. You may not think that the bonce-begging Salome conforms to the archetype of a Jewish princess, but be warned, this is all according to the fake news New Testament.

I think more of a clue is to be gained from the reign of Herod Antipas who married a woman called Doris, who he subsequently divorced. We all know Jews like that.

So let’s allow our imaginations full rein. It’s episode three of The Krauns, the Jewish royal family of the United Kingdom. Which does not take place at Balmoral. Or Schmuck House, because why would it? Queen Gloria and her consort Prince Maurice and Princes Gary, Gordon and Desmond and Princess Annabel, have altogether different taste. There’s the main palace in Hampstead Garden Suburb, backing onto Highgate golf course. You want a break, relax a little, receive a potentate, then you need something with a pool, a drive out of the smoke and close to a few shuls. In other words, just outside Radlett. If you need to go further afield then it’s the sun you’re chasing and there’s always the condo next to Miami beach and the new place in Herzliya. Which (unlike Balmoral) has not one, not two but THREE upmarket malls, a cultural centre and — eat your heart out William and Kate — the Herzliya Cinematheque.

So Mrs Thatcher and Denis roll up to Radlett Palace. “It’s the prime minister! Look everyone! We are honoured. Really. No, take this chair, it’s normally the Queen’s, but she doesn’t mind, do you Gloria? A vol-au-vent? A glass of something? Rosé? That picture, Denis? (Can I call you Denis?) That’s Prince Gary with Maureen Lipman. Quite a close friend, you know.”

“Now the plan. Lunch. Salmon. Hope you’re fine with that. Then afterwards a tour of the estate. Outdoor shoes? No, we’ll be taking the Volvo. Then back for a spot of bridge, if you fancy that. Now, scream if you’re not interested, but we know you’re a family woman, so we thought that you might enjoy these albums of Prince Desmond’s barmitzvah. Such an occasion. Oh, and did I tell you it’s a real honour?”

David Aaronovitch is a columnist for The Times