I never thought I'd say this, but I feel a bit sorry for Richard III.

OK, I probably wouldn't ask him to babysit my young nephews, but I feel he's had a bit of a rough time.

Bad enough, if you're Richard, that you are born with a painful spinal condition, scoliosis, at a time before painkillers have been invented. Even worse, you only get two years on the throne and your violent death on the battlefield ends your family's royal dynasty forever.

And to top things off, some bloke called Shakespeare, who ends up being the most famous dramatist in history, writes you off as a pantomime villain. People boo and hiss whenever you are mentioned for the next 500 years. But you learn to accept it. You even start to enjoy it. Shakespeare may have got you all wrong, but at least he gave you some cracking lines.

Then comes the ultimate humiliation. Your remains are found buried beneath a car park. In Leicester.

Watching King Richard's journey on Sunday from the city's university to Leicester Cathedral, all relayed live on Channel 4, was a very strange affair indeed. His coffin, which was supposedly made of oak, had the air of an Ikea kitchen about it. It was carried in a cortege that brought to mind the funeral, a few years ago, of Pat Butcher from EastEnders.

Thousands of people lined the streets to watch, many bowing their heads. Before the coffin was taken inside the cathedral, a party made up of historians and "relatives" dressed in funereal black with sombre faces to match (the man died in 1485!) placed white roses on the coffin to symbolise the York dynasty.

Inside, a guard of honour in full military dress watched over the coffin in silence as folk with Primark bags who had to be told not to take selfies (why not?) sauntered by. I kept expecting to hear Armando Iannucci doing the commentary. Can it get any more surreal? On Thursday, at the formal reinternment, the royal family will be represented by Sophie, Countess of Wessex. Right oh.

I get that Richard's re-emergence from the deep - well, the concrete - is an amazing story. I get that the research done afterwards by forensic historians from around the world shines a remarkable light on a fascinating period of history.

What I find bizarre is the solemnity and reverence England still feels the need to give anything with a whiff of royal provenance.

In the end, I reckon poor old Richard would indeed have given his kingdom for a hearse - a low key one.