Imagine the scene:-

The Queen, Prince Philip, Tony and Cherie Blair, John and Pauline Prescott, Gordon and Sarah Brown and the Archbishop of Canterbury, all sat in a prominent central London church service to commemorate the (alleged) end of slavery in the British Empire 200 years ago. Suddenly, the proceeding is interupted by an African man to protest the hypocrisy and sheer affrontry of it all!

Step forward that man: Toyin Agbetu of the African rights organisation Ligali, who was only a dozen feet from all of them, with apparently no security guards to block him.

It took seven guards and two ushers to evnetually accost Toyin and usher him out of the building.

“Let go of me!” Toyin yelled, raising his arms like a suspect confronted by armed police. “I have no weapon! I have no weapon!”

The Queen, on a raised platform and out of Toyin’s immediate reach, watched with pursed lips. The Duke of Edinburgh frowned. Neither seemed frightened for their safety. In the pews, Mr Blair watched with dismay as if already preparing a speech about this “regrettable incident”. Mr Brown, whose eyes had been sleepy, was jolted awake. Kwame Kwei-Armah, the actor and writer, dressed in a glittering golden African robe, watched with sorrow in his eyes.

The more that the security men tried to manhandle Toyin, the more he resisted. Suddenly the interruption turned serious. There were pushes and shoves, even punches. Twice Agbetu and several bodies went crashing into the knees of appalled guests, who were wearing their smartest suits and dresses. All the while Toyin’s bellowing was drowning out the now superfluous service, which had tried to resume.

By now many guests and journalists around me were on their feet, straining to look. There was a sense of danger and drama. It was clear Mr Agbetu would not go quietly. Possibly not without a fight.

After what seemed an eternity, Toyin was shuffled towards the quire, in the direction of the exit. But he pointed at the Queen and yelled: “You, the Queen, should be ashamed!” The monarch did her national duty by remaining icy calm.

Toyin was now directly beneath the prime minister. He turned to face him and Mr Blair glared back. The thousands of guests watched in hushed anticipation, wondering what would come next, wondering if Toyin might even leap on him. Instead the protester screamed: “You should say sorry!”

Toyin continued walking and shuffling, still resisting the hands being placed on him, still shouting his dissent. Hundreds more guests in the nave got to witness the spectacle. The abbey’s ushers still looked unsure quite how to handle him. Finally, outside the building, Toyin was not bundled away as might be expected. Instead, he gave an impromptu press conference.

“I had always planned to make this demonstration,” he said. “The Queen has to say sorry. It was Elizabeth I. She commanded John Hawkins to take his ship. The monarch and the government and the church are all in there patting themselves on the back.”

Finally, two police officers took him away for questioning. The service continued to the end but the sepulchral calm had gone. When the guests emerged they were not talking about William Wilberforce.