Before Christmas, I was sent on a secret mission by Master Toro, the dojo’s Finance Director. He told me only I could pull it off. I was to lie in wait outside a certain business watching for one individual – for weeks if necessary. I was given a brief description of the target and told to kill on sight. Such was the sensitivity of the mission that it would require special concealment measures.
As Master Toro had only very briefly briefed me, I asked him for more details, to which
he replied: “Ninjas who would be worth more to the Order as a bucket of
ingredients for traditional medicines should not ask too many questions
when work comes their way.”

So it was that I was dressed, with the help of some adepts, in a disguise that so encumbered me I could barely move and could not see down at all. I was then driven at speed to the location and placed in some kind of hidden bunker. I was not told where so that, if captured, I could not betray the plan. I was told to blend in, to be still, to be silent and to watch for a gaunt Arab with a black beard and a kidney dialysis machine.

I have barely blinked since mid-December, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on the Way of the Ongoing Eye. I have the image of the shop I was watching burned into my retinas. Because I was there during the pre-Christmas rush I also have the sounds of Slade’s Merry Christmas and crying children ringing in my ears. My target did not appear.

Eventually, after dark yesterday, I was relieved by a giggling Brother Niguri. He removed me from my “bunker” and helped me out of my disguise. It was then – and only then – I realised that I, a trained ninja, a feared killer, a being who has transformed himself into a living shuriken, had been hired out to the nearby shopping mall as … Frosty the sodding Snowman for their Christmas grotto.

And, oddly, Osama bin Laden did not pop into our branch of Argos to do his shopping.

However, I miss all the tinsel and the magic, childhood feeling that
Christmas Eve brings, so I suggested traditional British celebrations should be
adopted for our workplace, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on
the Way of the Ho Ho Ho.

When asked how British people celebrated the birth of our Saviour, Jesus
Christ, in the context of the workplace, I quickly explained the basic
tenets:

• Eating rat disguised as turkey at £4.90 for three courses.
• Drinking cheap wine then cheap beer, cheap premium lager, cheap gin, cheap vodka,
  cheap Cava, cheap brandy, cheap cider and value whisky. As a sharpener before
  lunch.
• Snorting lines of icing sugar having been told it is finest Bolivian marching
  powder.
• Spontaneous unaccompanied karaoke.
• Photocopying your buttocks.
• Kicking seven shades of festive fun out of the Finance Manager.
• Photocopying the Finance Manager’s buttocks.
• Disappearing under the mistletoe with the office seamonster who no amount of
  crystal meth and tadalafil would normally
  induce you to approach within three miles of.
• Photocopying the office seamonster’s buttocks.
• Vomiting prodigously over the entire board in reverse alphabetical order.
• Breaking into the office and setting fire to your underpants, having forgotten to take them off first.

After some discussion it was decided we should stick with a tree and some
carols. Oh and kicking seven shades of festive fun out of the Finance
Manager.

Fortunately, Honoured Master Utsubo, our resident explosives expert in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on Never Cutting the Red Wire, was on hand. He quickly verified that it was an improvised explosive device, had the room cleared of all ordnance and prepared to carry out a controlled explosion.

Then Brother Wakasagi, our Chief Blog Guru, got involved. (Actually, I don’t remember the Order ever appointing a Chief Blog Guru but he insists that’s what he is.) Brother Wakasagi stopped Honoured Master Utsubo’s work, saying: “Man, you are sooooooo last century. Before we do anything else we should consult the online community.”

Honoured Master Utsubo replied: “Why? This is a bomb. We need to detonate it in a controlled fashion.”

Brother Wakasagi: “That’s only one opinion. I suggest we involve e-experts worldwide to open our minds to other possibilities. Perhaps we do not have to blow up the bomb.”

Before Honoured Master Utsubo could insert his spanner into Brother Wakasagi’s I/O port, Honoured Mistress Moroko, our Head of Ninja Facilitation Facilities, stepped in: “Does this mean we could save money on repairs? I think we should listen to our Chief Blog Guru.”

“But,” said Honoured Master Utsubo, “I have trained all my life to render explosives safe. I have studied the most arcane Ninjitsu texts on the subject.  Since I was five years old I have been defusing bombs. My father used to throw them at me: happy times… ”

As he reminisced about his childhood, Brother Wakasagi piped up: “Well, according to the How To Defuse Bombs Blog, we should cut the red wire. There are 27 comments that agree. And four that say cut the green one. One comment says you can make your penis bigger but it does not elaborate.”

Honoured Master Utsubo exploded (not literally). “That is rubbish. Only in Hollywood movies do people cut wires. The only way to make this thing safe is to detonate it in a controlled way.”

Brother Wakasagi said: “Well, I’ve found 34 online experts who disagree. The net is like a giant brain and it disagrees with your old-fashioned, narrow thinking. Who are you to dictate whose point of view is valid?”

Honoured Mistress Moroko then spoke: “Brother Wakasagi’s argument is powerful, particularly if I can save 30 Yuan from my budget by not redecorating the room.”

Other directors of the Order who had appeared agreed with her. Brother Wakasagi then picked up a pair of pliers. He approached the bomb. And Honoured Master Utsubo started running.

Our Chief Blog Guru saw the old ninja go and shouted: “Lolz, n00b, move with the times, you dinosaur.”

Those were his last words. We were going to dig Honoured Mistress Moroko out of the ruins of the west wing but Honoured Masters Toro and Hamzo, who had been absent, told us that we should not be hasty and a full cost-benefit analysis should be undertaken before any rescue.

Adept Hoshi-garei was elated. I could tell that by the way he nearly raised his eyes from the ground when he spoke to me. That and the fact he was extravagantly chewing a pen rather than his normal pencil.

“Adept Wasabi,” he intoned. “For 33 years I have been working on a portable device to create power by causing excitation in liquid through the application of heat. And today, after many frustrations and doubts, I have finally created a working prototype. Would you like a bite of pen to celebrate?”

I declined his kind offer and listened as he described his device.

After a while, I chose my words carefully, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on The Way Of The Treading Softly On Dreams. “Adept Hoshi-garei,” I whispered. “You do realise you’ve spent your entire working life struggling to invent the kettle, don’t you?”

He did not reply but stood in silence. He’s still there now, seven hours later. A dribble of ink dropping from his chin.