The Ministry of Silly Walks may have done more to catch criminals than any more prosaic government department. A person’s gait is as individual as his iris, fingerprint or DNA, and can just as reliably lead a detective to the culprit. Not everyone has a manner of walking as angular as John Cleese’s man from the ministry; but, according to recent research, each of us strides uniquely through life in a manner that leaves no room for confusion.

There are, of course, some who will always stand out a mile: those who lift their heels too early and bounce on rubbery air; those who compensate for their restricted height with enormous strides, rising up rhythmically like piston heads; those who mince along with tiny steps and obsequious mien; and those who position each delicate foot with the self-regarding ostentation of the Prince preparing for his pas-de-deux with the White Swan.

Some walks have faded with time: the rolling swell has gone the way of the Indian tea-clipper, the goose step fell with the Reich, the bow-legged no longer swagger down the streets of Laredo and Quasimodo’s heirs have straightened their backs and lost their lopsided lope. But in their place have come walks that betray a brave new world: the pimp-roll, where sides alternately droop and roll forward with lurking unspoken menace; the first stiletto, a teenage stilted tottering on legs bound fast by a short, tight, narrow dress; the mobile drift, an aimless meander across the street that comes to a sudden stop on receipt of astonishing fresh gossip. Like the politician’s lurch, each step reveals past crimes and future intentions. Police have only to watch the cameras to spot the gait.