Right, this shouldn't be too difficult! I live in a basement flat in central London and twice last summer I was startled by a fox in my own living room.
On the first occasion it dashed straight back out from the window whence it came, as I staggered around experiencing a mild heart attack. On the second occasion, having sized up its pitiful opposition, the damn thing actually started edging towards me until I told it in unvarnished Anglo Saxon to jog on.
Not seen it since mind. But no doubt the combination of leaving windows open during the summer and the smell of late-night bacon sarnies will act as a siren song to furry invader. And when it does I shall ask it politely if it fancies collaborating on a music-based photo project.
Watch this space!