I aten't ded

You'll be wildly unsurprised to hear that the teeny explosion in the bog of an Exeter restaurant didn't scatter my carcass to the winds.

I'm pleased to report that whatever disgruntled employee or bunny-boiling personal spat ended in a centre-evacuating blamlet, yours truly will be cycling through the snarled traffic and scooching past any daft car-only cordons.  Bikes: Your best transport for the zombie apocalypse.