It all started with a noise complaint.
The landlord possessed the audacity to suggest that blasting industrial techno at 2 AM was, quote, "not within the terms of the lease." This was an unacceptable violation of my human rights. The social contract was officially severed. Total sovereignty was the only logical escalation.
The Declaration
I drafted the Declaration of Independence on the unbroken half of a Domino's receipt. I notarized it with a rubber stamp I bought on Temu, and pushed it underneath the landlord's door at exactly 3:47 AM.
It read:
"I, the Supreme Chancellor of Flat 4B, do hereby proclaim this 48-square-meter unit a free and independent nation. Henceforth known as the Indoor Dynasty. All rent obligations are nullified by decree. Do not text me."
Legal Framework
The legal framework is flawless. I invoked the Montevideo Convention of 1933, which clearly outlines that a sovereign state demands:
- A permanent population (I haven't left in three days)
- A defined territory (Flat 4B, excluding the balcony since the pigeon incident)
- A government (Me, currently issuing decrees from the sofa)
- The capacity to enter into relations with other states (I texted the guy in 4A for sugar once)
Criteria met. The law is the law.
International Response
Predictably, the landlord refuses to recognize our sovereignty. Typical imperialist aggression. I brought the matter to the UN via a strongly worded contact form on their website. They remain silent.
The campaign for global recognition continues. All future rent demands must be submitted as formal diplomatic correspondence to:
The Supreme Chancellor, Flat 4B, Third Floor, By the Broken Intercom.
Phase Two
Phase Two kicks in tomorrow. We are minting a national currency (used AA batteries). We are drafting a constitution (Article 1: The Wi-Fi password is state property). And we are finalizing the flag (a stained bedsheet draped over a standing fan).
The revolution will not be televised. It will, however, be documented in this log.