Where previous generations went to church on a Sunday, modern Britain likes to gather in front of the television, gaze at a procession of dusty artefacts, and ponder how much the stuff is worth. Tat or treasure, the Barras or Sotheby’s?

Something similar to watching Antiques Roadshow was going on this week when on the same night we were treated to Charles R: The Making of a Monarch (BBC1, Sunday), The Windsors Coronation Special (Channel 4, Sunday), and Frankie Boyle's Farewell to the Monarchy (Channel 4, Sunday). One evening, three programmes running the rule over King Charles III. Together they represented the extremes of television’s attitude to the monarchy with something in the middle for good measure.

Charles R: The Making of a Monarch (BBC1, Sunday) introduced itself as “the story of how a prince became a king as recorded by film and television cameras over the decades”. With an intro boasting of the film-makers’ access to never-before broadcast footage, Charles R was a straight down the line sales pitch, a sizzle reel for further instalments to come. If there was any criticism here it was of the blink and you’ll miss it kind.

Some of the footage was charming, a lot had been seen before, though there were some rare gems, including Nixon meeting the young prince at the palace. The Diana days went past smoothly as a succession of images, some joyful, most sad.

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Onwards we trotted through the decades, the prince’s words from past interviews providing a narrative. Now and again the present day Camilla would pop up with her tuppence; how she would like people to see the lighter side of Charles and so on.

The overriding impression was of a man who lived a deeply weird life. He was just like us, except he was not. That was about it for searing insight.

I doubt the programme shared an audience with Frankie Boyle's Farewell to the Monarchy (Channel 4, Sunday). There were plenty of gags impossible to reproduce here, and several that took the breath away. It was all so predictable, though; it would only have been truly shocking if Boyle had praised The Firm rather than pelt it with verbal manure.

The programme was memorable for reasons other than Boyle’s odd habit of delivering his spiel head-on, then gazing off to the side. Did no-one tell him the camera was in a fixed position? More importantly, the hour was a reminder that Boyle is no mean documentary maker. With the help of historians and other well-chosen commentators, he put together a history of the monarchy that was pacey, enlightening and could have aired on BBC2 primetime. Frankie Boyle as a Glasgow Simon Schama, who would have thought? I don’t think he will be asked to narrate a coronation documentary any time soon, though.

The Windsors Coronation Special (Channel 4, Sunday) took no comedy prisoners but it was daft enough to get away with it. Bert Tyler-Moore, its writer, made sure there was never a dull moment as he skewered what William called “the coronashun”. Hard to choose a favourite because all the characters are so spot on, but if forced I’d have to plump for Hadyn Gwynne as Camilla. (On why she was more popular with the armed forces than Charles or William, she mused: “They sense that I’m good with my fists.”) If there was a conclusion to draw from the evening’s viewing it was this: any country that can settle on The Windsors as a midway point between a fawning documentary and a vicious comedy take-down can’t be all bad.

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Another tale of haves and have-nots unfolded in Tom Jones (STV Player/ITVX, from Thursday). Solly Jones and Sophie Wilde played star-crossed lovers Tom and Sophia in this adaptation of Fielding’s novel. Writer Gwyneth Hughes added her own twist to the story, which freshened up the yarn no end, and whisked the rest into four hours of slight, enjoyable television in which bosoms duly heaved, horses snorted and handkerchiefs were dropped. A pleasant change from the grim plodding of Great Expectations.

Blue Lights (BBC1, Monday) ended its run with enough admirers to make a second series a racing cert. Though made for relative pennies compared to the glossy offerings of the streaming channels, this Belfast-set police procedural was a class act, one that made a virtue of its location without straying into cliche or settling for neat answers.

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The script had not an ounce of flab on it and the cast was a strong mix of old faces and new. Like all the best dramas, Blue Lights was about families, the one you are given and the one you choose. That so many chose to stick with the Blue Lights brood is heartening proof that quality will always find an audience.

Succession line of the week has to be a crushed Gerri being sacked (again) by Roman and telling him: “You are not your dad.” Ouch.