So we’ve all been following with a mix of goggle eyes, interest, bemusement and quiet respect, the shenanigans in Blighty over the monarchic succession. Some are on board with Charles III, while others are doing the republican rag all over again. 

Now you have to admit, cobbers, that those Brits know a bit about gravitas and ceremony. The guns by the river and Hyde Park, the trumpets in the court at St James’ Palace, the red and gold costumery, the carriages, the horses  … I mean we’e just not in the game, are we? Let’s be honest.

So I reckon if we’e going to rip into the republic debate again, we oughta’ do it proper. It’s time therefore to resurrect King Bluey. The perfect solution surely is a true blue Aussie monarchy, to satisfy us all. An Australian head of state who talks proper, with the gravitas that only monarchy brings. King Bluey was my perhaps ambitious proposal back in 2007, through a letter to the Age, Melbourne. Commending another correspondent’s proposed Australian monarchy, I wrote thus:

You little bewdy! A true blue Aussie monarch. What a ripper of an idea to save some trees and 20 years' gasbagging. 

Now here's what I reckon. We invite the nation to a game of two-up on the lawns at Yarralumla. (Just don't tell the cops. I'll bring the slab, you nip down to the butcher's.) The winner gets the crown, and an annual state-funded lott'ry ticket to pay the bills. 

Then we all sing the royal anthem, "Up there, Cazaly". After that we wander up to the palace on the hill, where Little Johnny presents the royal stubby and cricket bat. (He'd like that bit, wouldn't he; and it symbolises our British heritage too.) 

A national Kelpie breeding program would provide a retinue for state occasions, and the royal nippers can carry the pooper-scooper. 

And we could follow the Danish naming tradition, where one of our own's already done us proud. So the firstborn heir will alternate between Bluey (or Sheila) and Merv (or Mavis). Should be a royal hoot, eh mate?

Now at that point I realised we faced a potential impasse. Where would King Bluey live? Forget the big smokes, Sydney and Melbourne. The war would never end. There is I suppose Govvy House in Canberra. But to do royalty properly one requires access to a more substantial body of water than Lake Burley-Griffin can offer. A decent river would be better; a sea better still. Our monarch shall come by yacht or frigate like the others. That’s how it works, right? What to do?

Well it happened that just earlier this year (perhaps portentously) I came upon a promising solution, one that recognises our British roots. A pub on Macquarie Island would be ideal for King Bluey’s royal residence and estate. Perfect for someone we need at hand but only to wheel them out for Australia Day and the Boxing Day test, and otherwise ignore them. True blue that.

All that now remains is to iron out the ceremonial stuff. We have the royal anthem, orb and sceptre (see above). We just need a decent crown (maybe a few spares in case of fire, flood or hangover), an FJ Holden replica, a few train tickets in case it won't start, some fancy looking robes and other livery from Vinnies, a choir of trained kookaburras, and an open tab till closing. Bluey and his heirs and successors according to law will take it from there. Ripper.

God save the King.