The day of the flying attack weasel was upon us. No one quite knew when but at some point weasels across the globe had spontaneously grown both wings and a hatred for humankind. They broke themselves into soaring mobile fleets, an armada of furry winged elongated death machines.

‘Help!’ came the cries of the citizens unprepared for the mammal-able onslaught. But no help would be found that day; the day of the weasel had arrived.