The operatives, unseen in the image below, are busy at work installing the propellant which will carry Number 5 Tower beyond our atmosphere.
After decades of work, while the tower was camouflaged as The Grosvenor Hotel and the subterranean bar The Wapentake, the preparation is coming to a conclusion. Once the blue touch paper has been lit and the Master of Flammability has retired to a safe distance, the great flaming edifice will be off.
With any luck the entire operation will fail miserably, Number 5 Tower will coming crashing back to Earth and land on Trump, Pence, Farage and the rest of the privileged elite whilst they're wearing gold lamé underwear and involved in a ritualistic, bed-wetting circle jerk.
I say luck, while climbing over the fence to sort out the 'failure' I tore my jeans so it had better bloody work. Although I fear it will bounce of their collection of brass necks and Trump will reopen it as some sort of theme park devoted to Putin and the legacy of Communist architecture.
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