A magic circle catastrophe was narrowly averted recently, and one of Tulkinghorn’s spies was on hand to witness the near carnage.
Sunday 14 May and a scribe is walking home through the City. The route takes the honest hack down Silk Street and past Linklaters‘ Angel Towers. As she passes the hallowed halls she detects what she can only describe as a “bush fire” smell.
Knowing the firm well, the hack’s first thought was that the IT system must be up the spout again. Either that or the partners were once again roasting the trainees.
But looking round she noticed billows of smoke pouring out of Linklaters’ entrance. “On closer inspection I noticed that one of the fag bins was really, really smoking,” said the spy. “As a concerned citizen I nipped into the reception and told the fella behind the desk that a fag bin was on fire and was really bad. He then made a phone call – to who, I have no idea.”
Presumably it was Tony ‘Fireman’ Angel, who swooped to conquer the inferno. Good work, sir.