Letting my own Crocodile Dundee loose on New York: SAMANTHA BRICK introduces her knife-wielding, camouflage-clad husband to the Big Apple

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'No, you can’t bring your knife,’ I told my French husband Pascal as we had our usual Mexican stand-off in our Dordogne farmhouse while packing for a three-day break to New York to see some musicals.

I shuddered at the prospect of explaining to officials why it’s ‘obligatoire’ for him to sport a 5in knife hitched to his belt – ordinary attire in our part of rural France.

But carry any blade over 3in in Manhattan (I checked) and you’ll end up cuffed in the back of a NYPD car.

Samantha Brick and her French husband, Pascal, pose for a photo during his first visit to New York

While Pascal has never been to the US, I’m no stranger to the Big Apple – I used to be a frequent visitor for work.

Yet during those trips I never visited a tourist landmark, let alone saw a Broadway show.

My mother couldn’t stop laughing when I announced that we were off to the razzle-dazzle of Manhattan.

‘Oh, Sam. Is that a good idea? It’ll be like taking Crocodile Dundee!’

Undeterred, we landed at Newark airport on a snowy January evening and headed towards immigration bundled up in our coats.

At least this meant the poker-faced officer didn’t notice Pascal was wearing camouflage clothes. If he had, I’m sure my husband would have been put on the first plane back to Europe.

In fact, while inspecting our passports, the official observed it had been Pascal’s birthday the previous day and decided that was the reason for our visit.

I didn’t dare correct him as he congratulated the birthday boy. Half an hour later we were hurtling along the New Jersey Turnpike towards Manhattan.

The couple admired incredible views of the city from the Empire State Building - after a slight hiccup

We stayed at the Park South Hotel on East 28th Street in Midtown. The hotel was just two Metro stops from Times Square where two of the theatres we would be visiting are located.

With just eight floors, Park South falls into the boutique category, and mercifully it didn’t have ‘dusk’ lighting favoured by chi-chi hotels – meaning you struggle to see anything in your room or lobby.

Our room was light and large enough for me to practise yoga, and the king-size bed was so comfortable that if I’d had a bag big enough, I would have stuffed the mattress in it to take home.

On our first morning we jumped out of bed with purpose. It might have been minus 7C outside, but we had an itinerary to stick to.

‘We don’t need a map – they’re for tourists,’ I trilled. ‘I remember where everything is.’

I soon spotted a fancy skyscraper I recognised.

‘Come on,’ I urged Pascal. ‘There’s the Empire State Building.’

As we waltzed into the beautiful Art Deco building, dollar bills in hand ready to pay for our trip to the top, the receptionist ever so politely told us we were actually in the Chrysler Building.

Well, it was an easy mistake to make.

With less than two hours before our first show started, we decided it would be advisable to take a taxi to the Empire State and not waste any more precious time.

When we stepped out on to the main observation deck on the 86th floor, it was minus 14C. I was so cold I feared my nose would drop off. An icy gale howled around us, so I sneaked back inside and enjoyed the stunning vistas of Manhattan from behind glass.

Meanwhile, Pascal – undeterred and warm in his coat – spent 30 minutes elbowing selfie-stick brandishing tourists out of the way to photograph the skyline.

Actors Cooper Grodin and Julia Udine star in The Phantom of the Opera on Broadway

Our first show was a non-speaking performance by the Blue Man Group at the Astor Place Theatre. I chose this because Monsieur would be able to follow it.

What I hadn’t banked on was moms and pops having the same idea for their little darlings, too. Annoying seat-back kickers were situated behind us.

Thankfully, when the show began, the toddlers stopped fidgeting because they were captivated – as we were – by the three blue men on stage.

The show is a kids’ party meets new age festival meets mime. It involved drumming, liquids flying everywhere (people in the front rows were kitted out with waterproofs) and ironic swipes at modern culture.

That evening we sat down to Phantom Of The Opera. Everything about it was Big Apple-esque – the theatre, the voices. The production has been running for more than 25 years, yet still feels fresh. The highlight was Julia Udine who played Christine – her voice was exceptional.

The following morning – map in hand this time – we arrived at Pier 33 on the Hudson River. Our mission? To take a ferry ride to the Statue of Liberty.

Even though it was now only minus 10C, Pascal had warned: ‘Don’t bother with make-up, it’ll run off.’ Obviously, I ignored him.

Naturally, within minutes of leaving the harbour, black rivulets of mascara were streaming down my cheeks.

The highlight of the trip was the School Of Rock musical at the Winter Garden Theatre on Broadway

To my mind the only way to view the Manhattan skyline is from the Hudson River. Numerous skyscrapers thrust up to the sky, but they all pale into insignificance next to the new One World Trade Center, which opened in 2014.

That evening we ate at our hotel’s restaurant – O ya – for some contemporary Japanese cuisine. I was speechless when Pascal said he was up for grappling with chopsticks.

We had the 18-course tasting menu (yes, 18), accompanied by five types of sake.

We sat in front of our chefs as they brandished knives and fired up blowtorches to prepare everything from eel to sea urchin.

Pascal couldn’t get to grips with chopsticks, so the chefs urged him to use his fingers instead. He didn’t moan about his lack of knife once.

The highlight of the trip was the School Of Rock musical at the Winter Garden Theatre on Broadway. An Andrew Lloyd Webber production, it opened last September and is a great a success.

The child actors were outstanding, playing their own instruments. The audience, including us, jumped up to give them and lead actor Alex Brightman a standing ovation.

We were so enthused afterwards, strutting through Times Square squawking one of the numbers, Stick It To The Man, that we found a fabulous bar and continued to enjoy our last night in New York.

And the inevitable hangover the following morning? It was totally worth it.