In what is already being dubbed “The Most Polite Rebellion in British History,” a group of determined residents has launched the Campaign for Marylebone Independence (CMI), claiming their central London enclave has been “economically, culturally, and spiritually distinct since at least brunch last Sunday.”
Leading the charge is Basil Etherington-Smythe, 64, a retired haberdasher and self-proclaimed “Duke Regent of Upper Wimpole.” Sporting a sash made from recycled Barbour jackets and a monocle that “detects gentrification,” Etherington-Smythe addressed a small but enthusiastic crowd outside Daunt Books.
“We demand self-determination!” he bellowed, standing on a crate of artisanal sourdough. “No longer shall our flat whites be governed by distant, quinoa-ignorant bureaucrats in Westminster. Marylebone shall rise, like a well-proved focaccia!”
The CMI’s manifesto, printed on recycled Fortnum & Mason wrapping paper, outlines a bold vision for the independent republic:
• A new currency: The Marylebuck, which will only be valid within the W1 postcode and can be exchanged for truffle oil, scented candles, or light passive-aggressive nods.
• A national anthem: A haunting remix of “God Save the Queen” played exclusively on cello and espresso machine steam wands.
• Passports: Elegant, leather-bound documents embossed with gold and lightly scented with bergamot and ambition. Holders will be entitled to queue-jump at Gail’s Bakery and receive emergency monogramming at local tailors.
Critics have pointed out potential logistical issues with Marylebone seceding from the UK, such as the fact that it has no borders, army, or even space for an airport. Etherington-Smythe dismissed these concerns as “tiresome Westminster realism,” and announced plans for a ceremonial border arch made of antique mirrors and reclaimed mahogany, to be installed at the top of Marylebone High Street.
When asked how the fledgling nation plans to defend itself, Etherington-Smythe revealed a volunteer militia of “lightly disillusioned retirees and yoga instructors,” trained in the ancient art of passive resistance and herbaceous cocktail-making.
International reaction has been mixed. France is reportedly “mildly intrigued,” while Scotland has sent a fruit basket with a note reading “good luck, sweetie.” Westminster, meanwhile, has responded with a single emoji: the eye-roll.
The campaign’s next step is a public referendum, though confusion remains over who actually qualifies as a Marylebone citizen. “If you’ve ever bought cheese wrapped in wax paper, you probably qualify,” said Lady Portia Tibbington-Smythe, co-chair of the cultural committee and owner of the area’s only gluten-free harp repair shop.
As Etherington-Smythe concluded his speech, he raised a hand and cried, “Vive le Marylebone!” before tripping gently over a Waitrose bag and landing on a passing corgi.
The movement’s website crashed shortly after launch due to excessive traffic and an unfortunate coding error that redirected all visitors to a Paddington Bear fan fiction forum.
Still, the message is clear: Marylebone is ready to stand alone. With style, scented stationery, and just the faintest whiff of rebellion.
