The Panda Assassin

The Way of the Dusty Shelf

I was hiding in the Library today, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on The Way Of The Avoiding Of Taking Minutes At The Staff Forum.

While skulking behind a bust of Norman Wisdom (don't ask). I trod on a hidden button on the floor. A small panel opened behind me, revealing a tiny cupboard. I had discovered one of the Order's many hidden storage areas. These are used for hiding secret equipment, incriminating evidence, documents and - sometimes - people.

I knew that a silent alarm would have been triggered somewhere and that I would be in major trouble if caught.

But before I fled, a scrap of paper tucked in the corner caught my eye. It had a crest at the top with words underneath giving an address in the UK. It looked like "No. 11 Downey Street".

However, it was this phrase that caught my eye:  "Waiting is frustrating but I find solace in the fact that there has not been a day since 1994 when he has not unwittingly drunk my urine in his coffee."

Whatever can it mean?

The Way of the Sneezing Parrot

Serious times, my friend, serious times. A deadly plague stalks the lands around us. The terrors of avian flu reach even to the walls of our Order's remote fastness. Yet even in the face of an unseen, lethal enemy the teachings of the Ninjitsu guide and protect us. So it is that, adhering to instructions of The Way of the Sneezing Parrot, we are burning pitch, sprinkling lemon juice on the exterior walls and smearing beeswax on our faces to keep the disease at bay.

I pointed out to our chief medic, Honoured Master Megochi, that this was a tad primitive. His reply was that by relying on 16th century superstitions and really high walls we were far more prepared for a pandemic than most major countries.

Shortly after, Honoured Master Megochi left our base in a hurry, citing "urgent business in Siberia" that required his immediate attention. Several other senior ninjas have joined him. Still I reassure myself with the following thought: "It's not spread to pandas so sod you, Jack, I'm all right."

The Way of the One Nation

Well, the work is really flooding in. This is a considerable relief as Master Toro will not now be forcing me to supplement my income by selling my genitals on eBay for use in traditional medicines.

Most recently, I was hired to infiltrate an old building in a major world city, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on the Way of the Whispered Spectre. Like a ghost, I breezed past their security. This was not easy as I am an 18 stone, black and white "giant cat bear" wearing a black mask who carries a sword. However, I circumvented their precautions by carrying a clipboard, looking busy and loudly barking: "Hello, Bob".

My mission was to give advance notice to my client on the result of an upcoming contest. I was to open boxes and count the bits of paper inside before escaping and reporting back. This I did successfully.

There was only a slight hitch, on my way out, my clipboard knocked over a box. And as I bent down to pick the thing up, I tripped over my katana and landed amid a pile of papers and boxes. However, nobody heard and  I quickly picked up the bits of paper and shoved them back into the right boxes. Well, I'm 99% sure they were the right boxes.

Anyway, I'm sure it wasn't all that important...

The Way of the Gowk's Errand

Much hilarity here this morning. One of our less wordly trainees, Brother Ainame, was the subject of a most amusing practical joke. It has long been speculated by his classmates that he was ignorant in the ways of the flesh. Given the events of last night, that is unlikely to change any time soon.

One of his fellows slipped a note under his pillow. (I suspect Brother Niguri.) It read: "I am secretly dying to have you, and I'm too horny to keep it in. Meet me in the main courtyard at midnight. Be naked. And blindfolded. With a rose clenched between your buttocks. And so I know it's you, write: 'Yessir, I can boogie' on your chest with a permanent marker. Find me by touch."

It was "signed" with the name of one of the more attractive young ladies from the monastery.

The idiot only went and followed the instructions to the letter. I believe the only person who was not in the courtyard was one of the junior chefs who had developed dysentry.

I would have found the whole thing even funnier if I had not been recieved a letter "from Master Hamzo" telling me that the Order were looking for someone to carry out a hit at a Christmas Panto and that all those wanting to be considered for the mission should, in accordance with the teachings of the ninjitsu, show their readiness by wearing tutus and blindfolds while practising ballet cambres in the main courtyard at midnight.

Brother Niguri should be out of the hospital wing soon. Once they find where I hid him, that is.

The Way of the Octogenarian

I finally got a commission. Not a hit. But a protection job. This was my big chance. I was told to guard a foreign politician from terrorists. I vowed to fulfil my task in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu.

It was all going smoothly until I spotted a disturbance. "GO, GO, GO!" I screamed at my team. Together we tackled the brutal maniac. Adept Awabi and Brother Unagi moved like the salmon flowing up a waterfall as they rushed to tackle this threat. Then we flattened him. He tried to fight but one man, however determined, has no chance against a group of ninjas - a group of ninjas led by a panda.

Our actions were proved correct by the fact that the thug was held under his country's terrorism act. God knows how many people he might have killed if we had not intervened.

The Way of the Frozen Shard

I think I'm suffering from anger management issues, not at all in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu. Master Toro, the dojo's most feared individual: our finance director, was going through my earnings to date. He basically compared my meagre revenue against the cost of my food and lodging.

To effectively illustrate the urgency of the shortfall, he then discussed how much panda genitals sell for in the traditional medicines market.  "It's not like you use them anyway, that's why you lot are all nearly extinct," he added.

I snapped. In less than half a moment I had performed the Way of the Frozen Shard, striking in a heartbeat. (Now, as a Giant Panda, I move slowly. But that is only in relation to other ninjas. Compared to deskbound beancounters, I move like greased lightning on rollerskates.) 

In accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu , I focused my Ki and jumped - no, flowed - onto Master Toro's desk. In an almost Zen-like trance I span, my left paw crushing his neck while my right right hand punched out the nearby window. As I continued my rotation, my right paw caught him in a certain spot behind the ear, disconnecting his brain from its stem. By this time, my left hand had caught a piece of the broken glass. In a finishing move I drove this into his heart (this is the frozen shard), my momentum wrenching the still-beating organ from his chest.  As a finale I impaled it on his beloved red pencil.

I'd say the whole process took less than half a second. I didn't mean to do it. It was instinctive. You insult my kind? You insult my mother. You insult my mother? I kill you. No, I don't just kill you, I make sushi from your vitals, sever your nethers and wrap your intestines round your torso like tinsel on a Christmas tree, while you are still talking.

Yes, less than half a second. Blink and you'd miss it. Master Toro didn't blink. He had seen the whole thing.  He had seen the whole thing from behind the practice dummy he had slipped into his chair while I focused my Ki and jumped - no, flowed - onto his desk. (Now, that's fast.)

By and large, finance directors don't like it when you try to kill them. And Ninja finance directors don't mess around with reports to HR and rigorous examination of your expenses. For a moment Master Toro regarded me cautiously.

I knew I was dead. He moved so fast I would not stand a chance against his attack. It would be over before he realised it had begun, never mind me.

He spoke: " So you are not aware that I worked at our craft for 30 years? Oh yes, friend panda, I was not always a ... 'deskbound beancounter', as you put it."

I knew I was dead. He moved so fast I would not stand a chance against his attack and he could read my mind. (A useful skill when it comes to expenses claims, I suppose.) In a second he was behind me. I swear he didn't move. One split second he was on the other side of the desk. Then he was speaking in my ear.

"Still, that was a well-executed move, if slow. Unlike most, you kept your right foot - sorry, paw - at the correct angle, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu. You show promise. That's the reason you are not dead already. You're worth more to us alive.

"However, your genitals are still up for grabs. And, no, not in that sense."

He then deducted the cost of his destroyed practice dummy from my future earnings. Master Toro then told me to start earning or get used to a different style of trousers.

Not a good day.

The Way of the Nagging Doubt

I am going through a bit of a crisis. I have always wanted to be a ninja, ever since I was a baby panda. While other panda cubs were eating bamboo and lying about, I would be creeping through the undergrowth wielding my lunch like a sword.

I was so quiet I once stumbled on my parents making love in the way that only pandas do. My Dad was lying on his back saying: "I really can't be bothered. Can you?" My Mum, who was lying beside him, said: "Me neither. Fancy some bamboo?"

For years I struggled to be accepted into the Way of the Ninjitsu. Finally, I was taken on as an apprentice. Finally, I passed the lethal tests of ninjahood and have become an Adept, able to kill silently and efficiently with a variety of weapons. Able to disappear into the shadows afterwards.

But I'm not getting any work. And I need the money. I get my basic pay from the Order but, frankly, that only covers my four-kilo-a-day bamboo habit.

It appears there just isn't much call for a covert assassin who is a slow-moving, passive, endangered, 260lb ball of black and white fluff.

I take refuge from my troubles the only way I know how: "Quick, Watson, the shoots and leaves."

The Way of the Synergistic Upscales

We ninjas are a traditional bunch. While we will use modern weapons to eliminate our targets (like the Accuracy International L96, the Heckler and Koch HK50 Tactical Fixed Blade or the music of Celine Dion), we prefer the ninjato, the kunai and the naginata, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu.

However, we move with the times. And it was this that brought Honourable Richard ("call me Dick") Green, Consultancy Solutions Facilitator, up the long, lonely, winding path through the dark forest that hides our fortress.

With his PowerPoint presentation, briefing documents and very large tie knot, he told the assembled brethren how that we needed to "downscale out-revenues", "efficientise head-counts" and reduce our cost-base by "synergising 24/7/365 technologies.to maximise dynamic infrastructures", in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu.

After being asked for clarification several times by Master Hamzo, it emerged that Honourable Richard ("call me Dick") Green, was suggesting:

A) We avoid using our weapons as this caused wear and tear to valuable material assets.

B) We abandon the traditional "black pyjamas" (his expression) in favour of brightly "branded" uniforms decorated with highly coloured logos, mission statements and sponsorship slots.

C) We sell our top secret mountain base to a property developer and move to an open plan office in a fashionable "highly-visible commercial space solution" in the finance district of a major city.

When Master Hamzo pointed out that these ideas would be hard to reconcile with our "key performance indicators" of A) killing people, B) without being seen and C) operating in utmost secrecy, Honourable Richard ("call me Dick") Green told him that he needed "to get with the programme", "adjust his negative attitude to innovation" and "become a team player". He added that there was no "I" in team.

He told Master Hamzo that the board had engaged him to revitalise the operation and that anyone who wanted to keep their job needed to "examine our learnings to innovate how we develop this function moving forward to deliver on our objectives".

Master Hamzo bowed his head slightly, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on the Way Of The Proper Respect For A Servant Of The Master. Surely it was only my imagination that he also made a very slight hand gesture.

It has been three days since Honourable Richard ("call me Dick") Green started back down the long, lonely, winding path back to the town - a walk of four hours at most. He has yet to emerge from the dark forest that hides our fortress.

The Way of the Tricky Lie

When I awoke this morning I sudden feeling of dread grabbed me. This is normal given that I sleep in the same dorm as Brother Niguri. But this morning it was particularly acute.

I sat and calmed myself through meditation, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu Upon The Terrors Of The Morning, and came to realise an important truth: I think someone is trying to kill me.

Troubled, I went to see Master Hanzo in the Masters' Wing. I found him relaxing in his normal manner by decapitating mice with a mashie niblick (in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu On The Way Of The Rodent In A Tricky Lie) in the refectory.

I cleared my throat and said: "Master Hanzo, do you think somebody is trying to kill me."

After a nasty slice sent entrail over the cheeseboard, he turned and said: "Adept Calgacus, we live in an ancient fortress filled with assassins. It is entirely possible somebody is trying to kill you. But let me reassure you of this one person will be trying to kill you if you interrupt my swing again."

Quite why the words left my mouth, I do not know. Perhaps it was the early hour. Perhaps it was Master Hanzo's kindly nature. Perhaps it was my fear. But I blurted out: "You call that a swing?"

Thus it was that he introduced me to the Way Of The Nine Iron In The Soft Body Parts and, later, The Way Of The Removal Of The 100 Golf Balls From The Personal Cavities.

The Way of the Svensk

My friends, it has been a long time since I posted. When I last wrote in this journal I was young, innocent. I was about to embark on my exams (of which more another day, when the wounds are less raw).

Accept my apologies, many apple blossoms have fallen in the orchard since those days.

I have graduated, though. I am now a fully fledged Ninja (Junior Class, Order of the Shape of the Pear). I have also completed my first assignment. Gratifyingly, it was not, as predicted by Brother Niguri, as a sideshow attraction in a Las Vegas brothel, but as a bodyguard on a sensitive diplomatic mission. (Brother Nigiri failed his exams and is repeating his final year, minus a few digits. As his superior, I like to make sure that he pays close attention to The Way of the Cleaning of the Latrine on Curry Night, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on the proper use of the toothbrush.)

I was sent with a delegation from our country to Sweden on a fact-finding mission about possible arms sales. The facts we found are that the Swedes are a nation of pacifists whose main weapons appear to be tax levels on alcohol.  The whole mission was a disappointment. The Swedes had no guns to sell us and in any case did not share our view about Luxembourg being a threat to the security of South-East Asia.

Things might have gone better had it not been for a terrible faux pas involving our delegation.

Mercifully, my role was to be quiet and look harmless - unless there was any threat in which case I was to snap into action in a blur of knives, teeth and half-chewed bamboo. Sister Bento, however, had a crucial role as official translator as she has undergone years of specialised language training. (Why we needed a translator when all concerned were fluent in English eludes me).

At the official reception on the first night, our ambassador was introduced to the Swedish king. The head of our delegation delivered an eloquent and polished speech pointing out the importance of respectful relations between our countries (especially in the field of things that go BANG).

It was a crucial moment. The ambassador then turned to Sister Bento, the signal for her to translate, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu. She bowed before Carl XVI Gustaf and said: "HURDY. GURDY. PUT. THE. CHICKY. IN. THE. POTTY."

She paused and then went on: "HURDY. GURDY. PUT. THE. CHICKY. IN. THE. POTTY."

It seems her "extensive foreign language training" consisted of watching the Muppet Show over and over again.

We are now at war with Sweden.