As we mentioned in our recent post, Yorkshire bobby turned author Mike Pannett has been out and about promoting the mass paperback release of his book, Not On My Patch, Lad, touring book stores and supermarkets. Of course, we made sure he had plenty of Yorkshire Tea for his journey, and he's even been giving away special samples of Yorkshire Tea to his fans. (Thanks Mike!)

As promised, here's another excerpt from Mike's book, with more to come soon. Don't forget, to celebrate the book's release we're also 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)

Enjoy!

Not On My Patch, Lad - excerpt 2:

It was a glorious spring morning. With the exception of one last reluctant ash the trees around Keeper’s Cottage had all come into leaf and we were surrounded by greenery. A woodpecker was hammering away in the woods at the bottom of the lane, and I’d just spotted the first of the swallows scouting around for a place to build a nest.

“We’ll have a decision to make there,” Ann said. We were sitting on the log, drinking tea and soaking up the sunshine. Well, Ann was sitting – in what used to be my seat – and I was perched on a nasty little knot at one end. A second bird was darting about under the eaves, flashing its white under-belly at us. “I mean, lovely to see them and so on, but they’ll make a right mess of the windows.”

“Leave `em, I say. We can always wipe a few droppings away.”

She smiled at me. “Glad you said that. Some people get in a total lather, putting up those strips of coloured plastic to scare them off. I mean, why? They’re such beautiful things.”

“Ann,” I said, shifting position on the log, “I don’t mean to change the subject but… what would you say if someone told you I was a kept man?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s something Walt said the other day. He was just trying to wind me up. You know what he’s like. But it got me thinking.”

“It’s got me thinking too. What are you on about?”

“He meant you being on a sergeant’s pay while I’m still a humble beat bobby.”

“Mike, you can’t have everyone getting promoted or specialising or we wouldn’t have any PCs left to pound the beat. We need experienced career PCs more than ever these days. And besides, what’s wrong with being a beat bobby for thirty years? It’s the foundation of the force, you’re on the front line dealing with the public and doing what most of us joined up for.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “Anyway, the way I see it we spend half our life at work so why not stick at doing what you like best?”

“Aye, but….”

“But what?”

“You know how people are.”

“Yeah. Some people are fine. And some are prats. And if some of the prats choose to think badly of you because I got promoted… I mean, what would they say if you’d got promoted and I was still a WPC? Would I be a ‘kept woman’?”

“You know what they’d say. They’d say that’s different.”

“And is it?”

“Well, no, not really.”

“End of conversation then. Tell you what though” - she nudged me in the ribs and handed me her empty mug – “If you are a kept man, you may as well earn your board. Is there any more tea in that pot?”