There’s a strong sense of wartime camaraderie in ‘Passport to Pimlico’, even though it was made just after the war. The film carries a nostalgic longing for the days of rationing and collective effort, as though the hardships of the past also provided a sense of purpose and unity.

The story begins when the residents of Pimlico discover that, thanks to a historical quirk, their district actually belongs to the ancient Duchy of Burgundy. Suddenly, they are no longer British at all. Declaring independence, they embrace their new identity with enthusiasm—only to find themselves quickly entangled in the realities of rationing, trade restrictions, and economic hardship. The fantasy of sovereignty collides with the practicalities of survival.

The humour lies in the detail. Ordinary people – the bank manager, the shop workers, the local tradesmen – suddenly take up positions in a makeshift government. Margaret Rutherford makes a delightful appearance, relishing the historical discovery and its consequences. The film gently satirises bureaucracy, nationalism, and the fragility of identity, all within the bounds of a warm, Ealing comedy.

Viewed today, the film carries fresh resonance in the light of Brexit. Here, however, it is not the UK breaking away from Europe but rather a small London borough declaring independence from the UK itself, aligning with Burgundy instead. The absurdity is played for laughs, but the underlying questions about belonging, identity, and the costs of separation feel strikingly relevant.

‘Passport to Pimlico’ is both whimsical and sharp: a celebration of ordinary people finding agency, while a reminder that independence can bring with it challenges as well as freedoms.