IT seemed like a really good idea at the time. It was one of those things exclusively done during the heady, giddy, silly early phase of that phenomenon they call falling in love. We had watched a few of the Pink Panther films during the week; she had never watched them. Much mirth ensued but it was Inspector Clouseau’s manservant, Cato Fong (played by Burt Kwouk), that sent her into bouts of hysterical laughter.

In case you don’t know, Clouseau had instructed Cato to adopt the “Ninja Way”. This meant Cato was to attack the Inspector when least expected, thereby keeping his employer on his toes and always ready for any attack. (It’s worth pointing out that although Kwouk was Chinese, the art of Ninja is in fact Japanese. Confusing.)

In one of the films, Cato, picking the worst moment possible (as he almost always did) launched himself from atop a wardrobe to grapple with Clouseau. I thought it'd be funny to recreate that moment. She had texted to say that she would be back after six; I interpreted this to mean some time between 6.01pm and 6.14pm. (The logic was watertight: if you were going to be home at 6.15pm then you would say, “I’ll be back at a quarter past.” Or “I’ll be home between quarter past and half past.”)

But 6.14pm had come and gone, and with it a quarter past and, sequentially, half past. I could feel and hear the wardrobe groaning under the weight of me; clearly I was no

lithe Japanese martial artist.

Had I a watch or a phone I would have realised that it was almost seven, she wasn’t home and I had been curled up like a ninja for the better part of an hour. It had seemed like such a good idea at 5.55pm. But here I was, in my early 40s, dressed head to toe in black and curled up on top of the (once seemingly robust) bedroom wardrobe. Dressed in black.

I cursed Burt Kwouk ...

Tuesday will be “International Day of the Ninja”. Workplaces the length and breadth of our nation may well adopt the “Way of the Ninja” for one day of the year. Hailing from feudal Japan, the ninja or shinobi were secret mercenaries specialising in all matters espionage, assassination and sabotage.

This notion of sabotage was central to Ninja and it seems to have been the one thing the Western observer picked up on. For a cult with such a fascinating history, such a strong visual look and such a do-or-die disposition it does feel a wee bit weird that my generation’s first and pretty much only exposure to Ninja was via the slapstick shenanigans of Inspector Clouseau and the Pink Panther films.

Peter Sellers was a comedy genius. I’m not sure any other actor could have pulled off Clouseau with such aplomb. While we are a little inured to cringe-inducing protagonists these days (David Brent from the Office offering peak cringe), Clouseau brought classic slapstick into the modern age alongside understatedly well-written dialogue. Just as Les Dawson employed great musical skill to deliver his iconic bad piano playing, so Clouseau’s ineptitude required huge amounts of comic ability.

There was much to enjoy in the films when I first watched them. Those were the days before political correctness, before notions of the West appropriating other cultures even if they fail to show them the respect they deserve. There was a slight discomfort watching Cato and Clouseau going at it hammer and tongs, destroying all in their wake and always, always with the Frenchman winning. I couldn’t work out why I felt this discomfort until recently.

Clouseau was utterly incompetent at everything. That was his sine qua non. Yet when it came to battling the well-trained, super-fit Cato, all of a sudden Clouseau became competent and able. It might seem like nothing but you have to remember that Cato was the only character in the entire film that wasn’t Caucasian. Ninja Cato should have destroyed Clouseau every time. But he never did. Cato was always destined to fail.

And so was my wardrobe stunt. When my girlfriend eventually showed up at half past seven that evening, she had to get a step ladder from the

neighbours to help me down. The wardrobe never stood straight after that and we never again watched the Pink Panther. Not so much ninja sabotage as self-sabotage ...