Your confused because its confusing. The UK charges people for the privilege of having a TV at all (they used to drive around using scanning equipment to find people watching TV without a "license").
I have no idea how they enforce that stuff anymore with mobiles, etc. Used to be, if you saw something with the BBC tag it was highly likely that the show had been funded with UK taxpayer dollars.
If those are the ground rules, then I think the people in the UK have confused a "democratic ceremonial monarchy", with a totalitarian government.
And every new piece of legislation I've seen come out of the UK recently, backs that up.
I especially like the one where your courts bent over for the copyright industry, by outlawing citizens from making, "mixed tapes", from digital music which they had legitimately purchased.
In any case, "once upon a time", you could be hung for not accepting the king as "god"....
Bear with me, I have a profound weakness for musical art drawn from historical truths.
The village square stands quiet
The curfew still enforced
The streets are even clear of dogs and *****s
Like some evil bird of prey
The scaffold spreads its wings
The people build their fires and bolt their doors
The mayor is giving dinner to the officers’ wives
His eldest son is learning how to fawn
The barrack block is hushed and tense
The soldiers drawing lots
Who will be the hangman in the dawn?
The lot falls on a young man
Who has served for but a year
His home is in the village close nearby
He shivers at the thought of what
He’s forced to do next day
He wonders who it is, who has to die?
And the full moon casts a cold light
On the gloomy prison walls
The papist walks his cell, he cannot sleep
He hears the waiting gallows creaking
Just beyond that door
He prays for he has no more tears to weep
The day begins to break
A muffled drums begins to sound
A crowd begins to gather in the square
The presence of the hangman in his terrifying mask
Weighs heavy on the minds of all those there
The colonel reads the sentence
Which the papist knows by heart
He has failed to show allegiance to the King
His crime is thus with God himself
And in His name he must hang
The papist, head held high, says not a thing
The jailer binds his hands
And puts his blindfold to his eyes
He leads him through the door before the crowd
The hangman sees his victim
And the blood drains from his face
He sees his younger brother standing proud
The hangman tries to protest
But is ordered to proceed
His trembling hands begin to take the strain
His eyes are blind with streaming tears
And he cries for all to hear
Forgive me, God, we hang him in Thy name
Forgive me, God, we hang him in Thy name
Forgive me, God, we hang him in Thy name
Oh, please forgive me, God, we hang him in Thy name
Forgive me, God, we hang him in Thy name