It all sounds rather bonkers.
Once the first building was toppled, there was no stopping the ravenous audience. Within a few minutes the edible high-rise business district had gone the way of the shortbread and wafer Forbidden City.
And the following quote from artist Song Dong would make a fine entry for the Bulwar Lytton prize:
"I love it when the audience begins to eat," said Song as the bread-stick and Jammy Dodger telecommunications tower went crashing to the ground.
During the fun and games, Song explained the purpose behind his art:
"It is about the transitory nature of our lives," continued Song. "In Asia now, cities grow up in a day. You remember the city one way, and then it is gone."
A worthy sentiment, no doubt made with solemn dignity amidst a crowd of drooling jammy-dodger-hurling cookie monsters. Sounds like things were nearly called off when health and safety spoilsports questioned the wisdom of eating three-day-old fig rolls.
Mr Song was having none of it. "Eat!" he demanded.
And they did, reducing the sugary cityscape to a heap of crumb and spittle.
A wilderness of crumbled carbohydrate replaced what had been great boulevards lined with Rich Tea and Hob Nob. It was as if an earthquake registering nine on the Richter Scale had interrupted high tea.
Next week, Damien Hirst carves an oil rig out of porcine offal and encourages public consumption.