In 1897 Queen Victoria antagonized family and court with her relationship with Indian servant Abdul Karim. Originally a waiter the devious and arrogant young man won over the queen by playing on her love of Indian cuisine and romantic view of the country,teaching her Hindistani,whilst she signed letters to him 'Mother',bestowing houses and gifts on him and his family. Already shocked that a Muslim should be at the heart of the court the Royal family stepped in when Victoria announced her desire to knight him and they threatened to have her declared insane if she went ahead. It worked. And in 1901 after the queen's death Karim was banished from Royal circles,returning to India where he died.

It is only appropriate, then, that Queen Victoria, leader and symbol of the age, was the rummest of the lot. Deprived of her passionate marriage to Prince Albert by his untimely and very inconsiderate death, she sublimated her energies into overcomplicating mourning practices for the nation ("What a load of crepe!" they cried from Land's End to John O'Groats), turning the map pink and cultivating disconcertingly deep friendships with unsuitable types. First, as we all know, there was Billy Connolly who, before he became a successful standup comedian, was a ghillie and then personal servant to the Queen. He died of sporran-mite in 1883 and the Queen went on to develop an equally intense friendship with Abdul Karim, a Muslim native of Jhansi in British India, which was unpicked last night in Queen Victoria's Last Love

In the course of their friendship, which spanned the last 14 years of her life, Victoria lavished attention, promotions and delightful, often house-shaped, baubles on Karim, who began his working life with her as a waiter at table and rose to become her personal secretary. It seems to have brought out the worst in everyone. Karim, whose early history suggested he was born a man on the make, became domineering and arrogant. The Royal Household, being already domineering and arrogant, was able to concentrate on becoming furiously resentful of Karim's unprecedented transgression of racial, social and – the thought was always in the air if rarely spoken – sexual boundaries, and uniting against him. Victoria became only more fiercely loyal. The only time she ever gave in was when her son, the Prince of Wales, said he and her doctor would have her declared insane if she went ahead as planned and knighted him. He remained untitled, but at her side until she died. Then they turfed Karim out of his house(s) and burned everything he owned that carried the royal crest, in a raging conflagration of snobbery and racism. He was banished to India and died there a few years later.

The programme was neat, orderly and interesting but never sprang to life as the material could surely have allowed. Everything was covered, but nothing and nobody was pressed. It had that oddly muted air that you often find even now in documentaries about the royals and/or the rich folk around them. Descendants of the protagonists were allowed to tell the family versions of the story without much by way of challenge, alternative viewpoint or fleshed-out background. Everyone preferred to emphasise the class rather than racial aspect of events – the Victorian fetishisation of hierarchy being so much more absurd and palatable to modern tastes than the deep, ingrained prejudices that allow you to colonise all those you perceive as lesser beings. It was all, if you like, terribly British.