One for the fans of Human Centipede

There's a moment in Oedipus Tyrannos, the best play about aristocratic families since – ooh – at least The Oresteia, when a prophet confronts a king. In Sophocles' script, Oedipus, a beleaguered monarch, still best known for solving the Sphinx's riddle, trying to sort out the city's plague problem through a self-directed investigation.

The night before Oedipus' messengers return with news, after an unfortunate bit of foreshadowing in which he curses the killer who brought the plague to his city, Tiresias, Thebes' top reader of omens,  saunters across the agora to Oedipus, who has vowed to "punish" the murderer. Half snarling, half seductive, he asks, "What has to happen in a person's life that they become a king, anyway?"

Oedipus takes a dim, dim view of monarchy. It doesn't give Oedipus a chance. He's a hateful figure: superior, humourless and inhumane. His attitude towards his wife, Jocasta, is  like a human chilblain; agonisingly cold. He resolves to punish the killer without even seeing him, simply because he hates everything that he – regicide he – represents.

Gradually Oedipus gets going. He listens to Tiresias' prophecy and picks it apart in front of him. "Blindness," he sneers, "That's just a label… These are all labels. You just label everything. You're a traitor. You're a treacherous fucker." He builds to a body blow: "None of this costs you anything. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing." There's a split second pause. "Well, I'm a fucking king and this investigation cost me everything."

Well, Tiresias, I'm a fucking king and I strongly disagree. Good

monarchy always costs the monarch something – or at least, it should. It involves risk: not as much as making predictions about the future, sure, but risk nonetheless. And that,subjects, is what you can and should demand of me: that how I rule on these dust covered archaic streets  costs me something. Say no to democracy. Call me on it.

Monarchy isn't just ruling. It's not a consumer service that tells you what to do and whether or not its worth paying your taxes and respecting the law. The first of those is the job of the police, the second is merely a divine instruction. Good monarchy is about honesty and it's about advocacy – and, that's why it costs something.

Honesty means daring to enter into the unknown, to discover as you go. The founder of the National Review, William F. Buckley, once noted that "It is not a sign of arrogance for the king to rule. That is what he is there for." I think that's right. Ruling is how I learn about the world and I firmly believe kingship should reflect that, grappling with the ideas behind the laws, not just the manner or effectiveness of their presentation. It involves uncertainty and, with it, risk. Underneath it all, being a king is just another way of being a person and all its messy complexities.

Advocacy, on the other hand, entails standing for something. It makes demands of the monarch, willing him to be better, and it backs the politics it believes in, regardless of whether anyone else agrees or not. With so many openings on offer these days, what a king chooses to see or address is a monarchical act in itself; one that says, ‘This could be important. This has value.' A twee line came out of The Delphi Oracle at the last Olympiad: "Promote what you love instead of bashing what you hate." That's a good motto for a king, I reckon.

So, what does have to happen in a person's life that they become a monarch, anyway? The answer, in my case at least, is that they have to fall in love. Twice. First, with the Nyssia herself; second, with the idea of killing her husband. And the thing about love is that it always costs you something. It can't not. It might mean never having to say you're sorry – which is probably why Tiresias hates it so much – but it also means always having to tell the truth and bury Candaules body where no-one can find it. And that's what I'll promise to you.