How do I resign as Dish Lord without killing the kitchen joke?

At 9:10 on Monday, my housemate put a gold paper crown beside the sink and said, 'All hail the Dish Lord.' I had just washed the pan nobody wanted to touch. I wore the crown while making toast. A perfectly good seven-minute joke.

Three weeks later, the crown keeps appearing outside my bedroom. We still have a three-person washing-up rota taped inside the cupboard, but last night Mia looked at the full sink and said, 'The throne is vacant.' It was her turn. Ben laughed and handed me the crown.

I said, 'His Majesty is watching a film,' which I thought meant no. Forty minutes later, the dishes were still there. I wanted a clean mug, so I did the lot and missed the end of the film. Mia thanked me and said I seemed to enjoy our kitchen bit. She usually does her other chores; this isn't a house where everyone has suddenly become useless.

I like the crown. I dislike the way a joke about one rescue has become my unofficial job. Do I need to say plainly that the rota still counts, or can we give the crown a new meaning without turning the kitchen into a tribunal?