PRINCE Charles was in Singapore last week causing no end of consternation while he vacuumed his trousers. I never imagined using all those words together in a single sentence. The perennial heir to the throne was over visiting the Dyson Technology Centre based in the principality; obviously when it was suggested that the king-to-be-who-may-never-get-there employ the suction skills of the world-leading British designed cleaner, breaths were bated.

Does his Royal Highness know what a vacuum cleaner is? Does he actually do any housework? Will he make an ill-judged joke like his dad?

Onlookers were surprised as the Prince joked about his dirty trousers and gave them a right good seeing to, so to speak.

I always find this royal fascination fascinating. I’m a leftist, socialist who believes in 1. wealth being redistributed, 2. our utilities being nationalised and 3. the abolition of the monarchy. I’m prepared to discuss and debate points 1 and 2. You may well influence and enlighten my viewpoint on how best to create a fairer society while diminishing the gap between the haves and the have nots. You may bring superior knowledge to the question of how best to return our once state-run industries to more effective public service. But when it comes to point 3, I simply cannot see a compelling argument for maintaining an archaic system built on a birthright, a system that fights every impulse every parent has in telling their child that – with talent and hard work – they can be whatever they want to be. While we have a class born into aristocracy by sheer dint of DNA there will always be a massive ceiling upon what us “mere mortals” can achieve.

And while I am far from alone in holding such views, there is a unique point of difference for me. Let me explain ...

I am ambassador for London-based charity, The British Asian Trust. The trust works predominantly with young girls across the subcontinent, helping them to get on in life and attain their full potential. It does some great work and, given my heritage, it’s an incredibly easy charity to be involved in. Prince Charles, a famous Indophile, set up the trust a decade ago and takes great personal interest in its work. Last year I found myself invited to the annual gala dinner thing. As a guid Scot, I popped on my kilt, tied a fresh turban and found myself surrounded by the great and the good at Guildhall in the City of London.

We ambassador types were gathered in grateful expectation of HRH and Camilla arriving for handshakes and photos. There’s an obsequious obsession around the royals that I abhor, an obsession they themselves never seem to want or expect. Charles came down the line. I, of course, won’t bow or curtsy. Instead we shook hands and I asked him where his kilt was. I have met him a few times before and I really like him. He has a quick, dry wit and is passionate about food and architecture. Hands shaken, the Prince leant in conspiratorially and asked in a lowered voice.

“Are you doing anything for us this evening?”

“Not tonight, Sir. I’m just here for the free champagne.”

He laughed and moved down the line. I thought nothing more of it. I was having an all too rare night off; here I was at a fancy dinner with plenty of free booze and I had nothing more to do than drink the booze and not make a fool of myself. Not unchallenging, but hardly impossible to pull off. An hour and a half and a bottle and a half later I was three-quarters cut as I saw two rather anxious organisers making for my table.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“His Royal Highness would like you to do some jokes. Please.”

I have never sobered up more rapidly.

“What?”

“Apparently you’re his favourite comedian and he wants you to do some comedy.”

I was as surprised as the harbinger. Me? Of all the funny folk, surely I can’t be Prince Charles's favourite comedian. But apparently so. I strode towards the stage, passing the Prince’s table on my way. He looked excited as he said: “You will do a Sikh joke…”

It was the jangliest 15 minutes I’ve ever done; and I managed to remember a joke about Sikhs. Not so much a Sikh joke as a sick joke.