Getting home from work this evening was decidedly difficult. The police appear to have locked down a large swathe of the neighbourhood, including my regular route back from the tube station. Traffic diversions, circling choppers and tons of coppers - they've got the lot.

The reason for this is, at present, a mystery. Police in London are a notoriously tight-lipped bunch, even - or possibly especially - when you flash them your press card.

However, my source (unreliable though it may be) insists the blame can be taken by a naked madman with a knife dancing on the roof of the local bank.

Rumours of David Blaine's escape from his box are, as yet, unsubstantiated.

More as we get it...