Daphne du Maurier’s novel Rule Britannia (1972) imagines Britain at war without weapons. The invasion comes quietly, through speeches, barricades, and habits of obedience, and what follows is a conflict fought in language, ritual, and memory rather than on the battlefield. The present paper reads du Maurier’s novel as a polemology of the everyday, tracing how sovereignty disintegrates in kitchens and gardens, in the play of children and the idioms of command. Du Maurier’s satire of the AngloAmerican “alliance” turns post-imperial anxiety into farce, revealing dependence masked as consent. Read alongside Orwell, Golding, and Barker, the novel belongs to a tradition that locates the ruins of the Empire in ordinary life. Grounded in Gilroy’s postcolonial melancholia and Malabou’s destructive plasticity, it argues that irony itself becomes the sharpest weapon of resistance and survival.