Also you'll have to implement the class system too, which often seems a tad confusing to johnny foreigner so here's a quick explanation:
Everyone in the UK is part of an ancient class system the death of which is frequently announced but never actually happens. Nearly everyone instinctively knows which rung of the class ladder they occupy, but you can never take their word for it. Here's a broad overview of the rungs of the ladder:
1) The Queen: On the top rung of the class ladder is Brenda herself. She never carries cash, speaks posher than anyone else (almost her own dialect) and married a grumpy greek chap with somewhat un-PC views on ethnicity. Her head is on every stamp and coin of the realm. She's richer than all the rest of us put together and many African countries. Gets driven around in big cars and carriages.
2) Other Royals: Despite marrying 'commoners' (i.e. very posh bints or dwarf-tossing rugby players) the other Royals are all hopelessly upper upper class and the rarified atmosphere of privilege has addled their brains somewhat. Prince Charles for example, is as mad as a hatter and talks to his plants and believes the golden age of British architecture is confined to the posh houses of posh people a couple of hundred years ago. No-one sees the Princess Royal anymore and Andy 'handy' Pandy will meet anyone for a bung, often arranged by his sozzled ex-wife who has been disowned by the rest of the family, basically for having a big trap and saying "ya, OK" a lot. Drive Landrover Disco's and expensive British sports cars.
3) Minor royals and the aristocracy: Since being chucked out of the House of Lords the aristocracy has been rather quite, confining themselves to the odd Pimms and a chukka on a Saturday afternoon, or blasting the living shit out of hapless animals. These people are all rich, live in big houses on lands assigned to their chinless ancestors by William The Bastard, and the feudal system is still in place. In Scotland the rich natives still own vast swathes of uplands where they go shooting grouse over lands they cleared people off ages ago. All people in this class wear kilts regardless of where they live and all have hidden Lord Lucan in their houses at some time. Often claim to be potless whilst sitting in a stately pile with 500 rooms. Drive Porches and other sporty cars, plus the more expensive 4x4s.
4) Upper class. People who have inherited money and hang around with the aristocracy. Can often trace their families back to a Duke of Buckingham or the Black Prince. Like panelled walls and eat cucumber butties. Often rich, speak proper and this is the class many middle-class people aspire to be accepted into, as they can afford the clothes and to attend Glyndebourne but rarely have the taste or breeding to quite carry it off. Drive Landrovers.
5) Upper Middle Class. Stockbrokers, Senior Churchmen, many politicians, slebs of all type and the entire Monty Python team except Terry Gilliam. Self-made and have a few quid in the bank, they tend to aggregate into communities of rather tasteless modern houses in posh villages surrounding the major cities and send their kids to posh local private schools. Rarely have any actual taste and have often kept their accents, all aspire to upper classness but never actually achieve it. These are the people that will attend polo matches/hunts/horse races etc with real posh people who are probably sniggering at their delusions of grandeur. Drive Lexus's, Jags, Beamers and those 4x4's that would be crap off road.
6) Middle and Lower Middle Class: Interchangeable according to the economic situation. All aspire to upper middle classness. Often made up of working class people convinced they've shaken off the shackles of their working class roots because they drink red wine and eat canapés. Often lampooned in sitcoms which they love as they never realise it's them being lampooned. Love Jim Davidson and The Daily Mail. Don't realise wearing clothes by big labels is not the same as dressing well. Have no taste and love posh kit pubs and 'gastro' pubs, which are basically glorified cafes flogging Brake Bros. food warmed up in the microwave. Drive Family saloons, people carriers and think the best car ever made is a toss-up between a BMW 4x4, a Navarra, the Porche 4x4 and the Landrover Vogue, all of which are the vehicular equivalent of a drunk slapper in Watford on Saturday night drinking 14 wkds, 21 'shots', then getting her tits out when the coppers go past before throwing up her kebab and passing out in the gutter. Jeremy Clarkson's fanbase is made up almost entirely of the middle and lower middle class.
7) Working class: Everyone claims to be working class, the most vocal claimants are often middle class people who used to be working class. In fact, most people are actually only a generation or two from being real working class. This class is under genuine threat as it becomes increasingly isolated from any social mobility which a delusion sold to it by consumer society and it's associated advertising campaigns anyway. Tories hate them but for some unfathomable reason many working class people actually vote for the tories. Read the red-tops and frequent real pubs, think Mrs Thatch was 'great for the country' and rue the loss of Woolworths. Go to football matches (slebs and politicians often go to football matches to make themselves appear 'normal'), know all the words to "The Road to Amarillo" and go to the chippy at least twice a week. Watches the X-Factor and ITV on wall-mounted 68" HDTVs and subscribe to Sky Sports. Drives just about anything, often into the ground.
8) Underclass: Also known as chavs or scally's. The most demonised element of society, feared and reviled by the middle classes who view them as the spawn of hell. Love designer labels and sportswear but will happily wear fake versions. Like 'bling', rap music and Big Brother. Can survive on one Greggs Cheese Slice and can of Iron Bru a day. Flock to large shopping centres like the Trafford Centre to mingle with those in the middle classes and buy trainers worth hundreds of quid a pair. Considered soley responsible for the riots last summer and as they essentially disinterested and voiceless in society an easy target for politicians to blame for all manner of problems. Drive souped-up Fiat Pandas and Vauxhall Astras with loud exhausts and sound systems the put out such volume and bass that your spleen feels like it's about to burst.
There are various subclasses within all these classes but it would be a lifetimes work to sort it all out. Suffice to say, as subjects of the Queen you will have to fit in here somewhere.