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A London skyscraper is creating a 70C beam of sunlight, melting cars and burning nearby shops.
Londons skyline has a new addition this week: the Walkie Scorchie. Joining the crowded group of glass protrusions, such as the Shard, the Gherkin, and the Cheesegrater, is 20 Fenchurch Street, which had previously been known as the Walkie Talkie, on account of it looking vaguely like a gigantic two-way radio.
But the 37-storey office block, due to be completed next year, has gained a new sinister reputation: the death ray, the fryscraper, the Walkie Scorchie.
Its south-facing concave facade conspires to concentrate and reflect the suns rays into an intense beam of shimmery light, hitting the buildings on the opposite side of the road. Along a 30-yard stretch of pavement at Eastcheap just a Molotov cocktails throw from where the Great Fire of 1666 started Londons burning.
On Tuesday afternoon, I was sent out to see if I could fry an egg in the heat, a task that I presumed was impossible on an overcast September day. But, not only was it possible, I had to run out of the death ray that was slowly cooking my egg, because the thinning hairs on my head started to catch fire. The distinctive smell of burning follicles, combined with the sensation of a magnifying glass being shone on my pate, forced me to take cover along the road.
As a result, my finished dish was possibly a little baveuse, as they say in France. A braver soul than me (with thicker hair, I noted jealously) stayed the course and boasted how his egg sandwich was a little too done for my liking.
This was accomplished with just intermittent sunshine. Wednesday, due to be a glorious late summer day, could see a brigade of chefs flipping burgers, griddling aubergines and roasting hogs in the astonishing solar flares bouncing off Taser Towers.
On Monday, the air temperature in the concentrated beam, reached 69.8C, which in old money is 158F. To put that in context, the worlds hottest temperature was recorded in Death Valley at 56.7C (134F) over a century ago.
Dr Simon Foster, a solar physicist, accidentally left his measuring equipment in a black bag on the pavement for 10 minutes on Tuesday. The thermometer read 92.6C (198.7F). Its insane. Its just ridiculous. Ive never felt heat like it, he says.
Forget frying, you could poach an ostrich egg in that heat.
But while the Walkie Scorchie is causing much amusement to curious pedestrians coming to gawp, it is causing serious problems for the row of shops caught in its glare. Ali Akay of Re-Style barbers, opposite the tower, told me he was too stressed to talk, but confirmed his carpet was burnt on Tuesday and many of the plastic bottles of shampoo and hair gel in the window had started to melt.
Diana Pham, assistant manager of the next-door Viet Cafe, admitted she was enjoying the extra trade from office workers swapping their lunchtime sunbed for five minutes of UV from the Towering Inferno. But four slate tiles, which clad the outside of her café, have popped off the building in the last two days, and her furniture is starting to cook.
The chairs started to smell, very, very bad, like they were burning. We thought something terrible was happening, she says. The upholstery of the chairs in the windows is starting to gently fricassee.
At the end of last week, the wing mirror, panels and Jaguar badge of a businessmans car had all melted, after being parked outside the café for just two hours. The parking bays are now suspended. How long before an enterprising deckchair supplier and ice lolly merchant moves into the vacant space?
The developers responsible for 20 Fenchurch Street say that the buildings glass cladding has been in place for months, but only led to problems in the last few days, caused by the current elevation of the sun in the sky. Er, I think they mean autumn. They promise they are working on a solution, which in the short-term is likely to be a temporary awning to protect the shops.