The Panda Assassin

The Way of the Endless Prepare

I know it has been a fortnight since my last entry but it is exam season here, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu, and I have spent the past days preparing myself for the ordeal ahead.

My preparations have been slightly thrown off balance. I had readied myself with pencils, A4 pads full of aides memoires, the York Notes on Silent Assassination Techniques and my lucky gonk. I asked Master Lee Brus - the head librarian - where the study area was situated.

To my surprise he grabbed my papers and other supplies and fashioned a small fire out of them. He then directed me to the Revision Area - a small carp pond in which all the other students were standing in the Position of the Poised Crane.

As I took my position, Master Lee Brus explained that a ninja prepares for tasks internally and that notes, pencils and especially gonks were of no use. Come examination day, we would come to thank him, he assured us, that he made us stand one legged in a pond for two weeks. That is, those who had not been severely beaten for failing to maintain the pose would thank him.

He then took us through the marking system,  in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu. Thanks to "namby-pamby modern teaching methods" there was no such thing as a "fail". Even students getting an F grade would pass the exam. Even though they had scored less than 30 per cent, they would be be given a certificate.

He went on: "However, a note will be made on their file saying that they require extra support. They will then be taken on to the roof of the exam hall and beheaded."

To help us focus, Master Lee Brus has been dropping coconuts from the roof of the exam hall every 15 minutes for the past fortnight.

As a result, I can no longer spell Ninjitsu without the help of a page of the York Notes on Silent Assassination Techniques that I saved from the ashes.

The Way of the Haiku

Being a ninja is not all about killing. The perfect assassin must be in total balance, possessing skills of creation as well as destruction, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu.

Today Master Hanzo taught us about poetry. We sat in the cherry orchard and he explained that the mixture of discipline and creativity contained in a haiku is a perfect mirror of the approach of the ninja to a kill. He then treated us to a skillfully crafted composition meditating on how, like a hawk in winter, only those who take life can truly appreciate its fragile beauty.

We sat for many minutes contemplating his haunting words.

In that spirit of shared emotion and tranquil melancholy he called me forth to recite one of my compositions. I was deeply honoured and read out what I thought was my finest work. It was received in silence by my fellow ninja students, who looked in wonder at me.

Master Hanzo gazed at me wordlessly for many minutes and then observed that my next haiku would be improved by not beginning with the words: "There was a young Buddhist monk."

The Way of the Information Super High

When people consider our craft, they think about the range of ancient and honourable weapons we employ: the shuriken, the naginata, the yari, the kusari-gama, the nekode, the kyotetsu-shoge, the metsubishi, the ninjato and so forth.

However, we constantly strive to embrace new technology, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on The Way of the Information Super High. One our most revered researchers is Adept Teppanyaki who is what I understand is called a "hax0r".

Recently I was passing the computer room (a small cell in the bowels of the monastery) on my way for my daily scourging, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu.

She was tapping furiously away at a wooden keyboard in front of a giant stone clad screen.

I asked Adept Teppanyaki what she was doing and, without turning from the screen, she said this to me: "I have stumbled on way of killing a target by using their computer."

I gasped. "How? Can you make it explode as they sit in front of it? Do you cause it to send a bolt of electricity through their quivering body? Or does the machine take over the electric functions of their house and cause the washing machine to attack them?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Wasabi," she snapped. "You have indulged in a ridiculous flight of fancy."

I fell into shamed silence and bowed my head, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu.

She went on: "This is much more sophisticated. Observe."

Adept Teppanyaki pressed the X button on her keyboard.

A black and white message appeared on her screen. "Honoured victim," it read. "Please find something sharp and jab it into your eye ... in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu."

I stared at the message, not quite knowing how to respond to this evidence that she very very badly needed a screen break.

After careful consideration, I asked the most innocuous question possible: "How successful has it been?"

She turned round, revealing a large swathe of bloody bandage on the left side of her face. "Mixed results," she replied. "Mixed results."

The Way of the Ethics Man

Every assassin has pangs of conscience. This was brought home to me when I encountered Master Hanzo leading an informal discussion on the tricky question of ethics.

This delighted me as I wanted to unburden myself of some moral dilemmas.

"Master Hanzo," I said, performing the correct obeisance in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu. "I too have recently been troubled by the ethics of our craft. I am not sure I could indeed take a life. Or indeed tell a lie if questioned by the police about our operations."

I then presented a list of alternative approaches I have been considering. These included rebranding "The Honoured Order Of The Ninjitsu" as "The Happy People Who Wear Black PJs And Help Other People Pack Their Bags At The Supermarket", replacing our core task of "killing" with "causing mild social embarrassment by using the wrong cutlery" and finally renouncing the katana, shuriken and naginata in favour of "chastising our victims with rough language, though stopping short of the C and F words".

Everyone in the group looked at me thoughtfully. Then Master Hanzo spoke in the measured tones that his great years of experience have lent him

"Actually, Brother Calgacus, I was not talking about ethics. I was reminiscing about an assignment in Basildon."

I looked at him, not comprehending what he was saying.

"It's in Essex," he explained. "Essex. Not ethics. Though I shall bear your comments about cutlery in mind.

"And also your reluctance to lie to the police."

All in all, it's been a very odd day. Especially as I appear to have developed another black patch on my fur. This one is most unusual. It's a perfect circle right in the middle of my forehead.

The Way of the Creeping Silence

It appears that it is not only me who is feeling the strain of our Ninja training. Yesterday we began an arduous test of our ability to remain undetected while approaching a target, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu. This is known as The Way of Creeping Silence.

There are various forms of this. The one we were being tested on is known as The Armadillo and involves weaving a basket of camouflage from willow branches and then using it to conceal one's approach to a target.

The examination was conducted in a rice paddy near our monastery. Eight of us were given 17 hours to cover one mile without being spotted by a team of 50 adepts tasked with hunting us down.

I cursed my luck at being released from the hospital in time for this, especially as the penalty for failure is severe: the excruciating Trial of the Forty-Seven Shards followed by revocation of membership of the Ninja Health Club.

I also cursed the fact that as I am a panda - a very large animal with prominent black and white markings - concealment is very difficult. Further, while my human colleagues would be able to sneak slowly and carefully across a mile of waterlogged pitch, for me it would be an all-out sprint to cover the distance in 17 hours.

Anyway, it was an appalling ordeal. We spent the night manufacturing our stupid baskets and then crawled on our bellies through freezing mud while the adepts ran around with large sticks beating the hell of anything that looked like a hidden wannabe ninja.

After 12 hours of this we were all close to the finish line when an adept started to move towards me. I froze and peered through the leaves of my cover as she started to leap towards me. None of us had been caught yet and it looked like I was going to be the first. I cursed my luck again, in non-accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu about armadillos.

But when she got within five feet of me, a ball of mud to my right began to make funny noises. The adept stopped and stared at it as it began to shake and snort. It sounded like someone was choking. The adept raised her stick and leathered the quaking pile of dirt.

Up jumped Brother Sashimi – a truly shocking development as he was the star pupil of all matters stealthy. Brother Sashimi then started to gasp and cough. The he guffawed and began to howl with unhinged laughter.

Master Hanzo tried to get some sense from him as to why he had revealed himself but to no avail – he was incapable of communication. It was not until they strapped him to the rack, that we composed himself enough to speak. Or rather sing, for this is what issued from his mouth:

Is this The Way of the Armadillo?

All through night I've been hiding in willow

My target for to kill, oh

And making sure he

Does not see.

Despite the fact his hands were bound, he then tried to clap, while shrieking: NANANANANANANANA

Apparently, it had taken Sashimi 20 minutes to get within yards of the target. Then that cursed tune had popped into his head. At first, he found it irritating - as it kept going round and round in his mind. Then, it occurred to him that it would be kind of funny if he failed the test because he giggled about a stupid song. From that moment on he was doomed. As the night wore on that thought became more and more hilarious. From that moment on he was doomed. He had spent 11 and a half hours stifling his laughter by jabbing pointy bits of willow into his soft body parts and immersing his twitching mouth in a puddle. In the end, weak from a night of repressed hilarity, he caved in and started to laugh.

He is still laughing on the rack now...

All very strange and sad. But at least there's a bit more room in the health club pool now.