As the adventures of Little Urn show, we're not afraid of getting about a bit. And neither, it seems, is our friend Mike Pannett - the Yorkshire bobby turned author. To promote the mass paperback release of his book, Not On My Patch, Lad he's touring book stores and supermarkets like there's no tomorrow. And because nothing goes with a good read quite like a nice cup of tea, we made sure he had plenty of Yorkshire Tea for his journey.

To celebrate the book's release we're giving away six signed copies - for a chance to win one, just email your name, address and phone number to our Dom before 3 June. (T&Cs here)

If you can't wait that long, don't worry - here's the first in a series of excerpts will be publishing over the next few weeks. Enjoy!

Not On My Patch, Lad - excerpt 1:

I eased myself back in my recliner and sipped at my tea. May as well let him ramble on, I thought. Walter had made his mind up many years ago. Women were best kept at arm’s length. He was going to see out his days in splendid isolation. ‘Why give half your food away to get the other half cooked’ and all that. I’d heard it before, and to tell the truth it made me laugh. Good luck to him. But as far as I was concerned, the day Ann moved into Keeper’s Cottage marked a turning-point in my life. It had pulled me out of a dive; and here I was, heading for the sunlit heights. Okay, so I’d had to give up the wardrobe and hang my one suit and two or three decent shirts on the back of the door, but, as she pointed out, the rest of my clothes were only fit for the Oxfam shop. As for her collection of shoes, all laid out on the bedroom floor and tripping me up on a dark morning, well, girls will be girls I say – and that’s the way I like `em. Of course, my sister had to get in on the act and bring us a house-warming gift in the shape of Henry, the manic Springer spaniel, and he was already proving a bit of a handful - but hey, I like dogs; and I like a challenge. And Henry was certainly that.

No, I wasn’t having any of Walter’s doom and gloom. I didn’t feel cramped in any way, even though I was now sharing the house. With Ann working her shifts in York there was no chance of us getting bored with each other’s company. There were times when we hardly saw each other all week, and communicated by notes and text messages. Here was I, due to start a late turn, just before she was due back from her early turn. We might pass on the drive, and we might not; and we might have half an hour together when I got home - if she hadn’t crashed out. You never knew.

“Aye well, I s’pose I’d best be off up that hill.” Walt had said his piece about entanglement with womankind, supped his tea, and was in the kitchen putting his boots on.

“And I’d best be getting ready for work.” I looked at my watch. “Hell-fire! Twenty to two?” I leapt out of my seat and headed for the door. “They’ll have my guts for garters.”