Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2GB8BSADWG9KGR1982413E

The centrepiece of the party, a piñata shaped like a woefully optimistic unicorn, listed slightly in the evening breeze, its pastel flank packed, so Molly’s fence had breathlessly informed them, not with boiled sweets but with a dozen misdirected limited-edition smartwatches. Bill surveyed the unicorn through his night-vision monocular, but his focus kept drifting to a bouncy castle shaped like an unlicensed cartoon dinosaur. “Right,” Bill whispered, “so I’ll create a diversion by ‘accidentally’ tripping the main fuse box with a frisbee.” Molly lowered her own binoculars, a frown creasing her face mask. “A frisbee, Bill?” “Aerodynamic and untraceable.” “You famously cannot throw a frisbee. You once hospitalised a vicar with a distance record attempt.” Bill sniffed, wounded. “He walked into my flight path.” “So we’re agreed, no projectile-based diversions from you,” Molly concluded, turning back to the unicorn. “We stick to the plan. I’ll approach from the sandpit, cutting the main tether with the cake knife. You will simply provide the agreed-upon childish shrieking from the hedge to cover the noise of the unicorn’s tragic deflation.” She patted his arm. “You have a very annoying shriek, Bill. It’s your best asset.”