Mike Pannett, who spent years as a rural bobby, has written about some of his experiences for FW. We've got half a dozen copies of his new book to give away in our limerick competition - so if you're feeling inspired, why not try penning a limerick starting with the line: There once was a rural bobby...
Your limerick can be serious or funny and doesn't have to be related to Mike or his books. The senders of the six that we like best will each win a book. If you're a bit shy and would rather not post your limerick on the forums, you can email them to fwfarmlife@rbi.co.uk
There once was a rural bobby
To whom crime was just a hobby
His real love was soccer
And inside his locker
He kept a signed photo of Nobby
There was once a rural bobby walking out on his beat,His boots were so polished on the end of his feet,They got so sore,And looked so raw,They looked like two plates of meat.
There once was a rural bobby. That's it I fain no more his steps traverse the lane. He is now urban based, though his shoes are still laced and we look for his help all in vain.
There once was a rural bobby. That's it I fain
no more his steps traverse the lane.
He is now urban based, though his shoes are still laced
and we look for his help all in vain.
There once was a rural bobby whose budgets been cut, that's a factor
In why he's not here, and thieves raise a cheer
just prior to nicking my tractor.
There was once a rural bobby look out,For the Ryedale Panther he must tout,In the snow he was seen,Big prints there have been,But on searching around there was nowt
There once was a rural bobby,
who checked on a woman's wee hobby,
'twas farmers she stalked,
she thought that they rocked,
said Sue, "I would never come rob ye!"
Opera singing was his hobby,
He wanted to be,
Like Pavarotti,
But stuck to singing like Robbie.
~Meggiewes~
there once was a rural bobby
who had a very strange hobby
he got out of bed
went to the shed
later his wife found lambs in the lobby.
thought he could impersonate Robbie,
His wife didn`t agree,
She said that he,
Looked and sounded more like Mr Blobby
a rural bobby from leeds, did swallow a packet of seeds
within an hour his face was in flower
and his chest was covered in weeds
there was a young farmer from wales
who collected sheeps doodoo in pails
his strange little hobby,
puzzled the bobby,
but his vegetable garden never fails
a fat little pony called ted,
spent every day in bed.
through winter and summer,
his owner grew glummer
but still he saw he was fed
There was a rural bobby-Sherlock Holmes?Out following tracks long grass he combs,Could be a Panther,The Ryedale Panther,In darkness for cover it roams.
There was once a rural bobby for years,Had been tracking big cat with big ears,Always at nightIt kept out of sight,Leaving tracks in the snow till it clears.
There was once a rural bobby knew all his patch,Followed a suspect his prints he did match,Fingered his collar,That made him holler,‘Ya coming with me lad' cell door we will latch.
there was once a rural bobby called mike
who found an old push bike
he mended the old peice of scrap
only forgot the mud flap
he flys round in a hurry
and forgets the slurry
down at old farmer bills
There once was a rural bobby named Mike
Through pastures and fields he would hike
Thought the stories he told
Could easily be sold
And that writing is something he'd like
Jon
There once was a rural bobby from Kansas whose combine performed with some Claas. It collapsed with the lurgy when it hit a beef burgey and so he finished the job on his Fergie.
There once was a rural bobby from Kansas
whose combine performed with some Claas.
It collapsed with the lurgy when it hit a beef burgey
and so he finished the job on his Fergie.
There once was a rural bobby named ally to us all he is awfully pally. He farms, and shoots rooks, clays and crows and he has a good turn with his prose Which he says, is due to his home in Montrose.
There once was a rural bobby named ally
to us all he is awfully pally.
He farms, and shoots rooks, clays and crows
and he has a good turn with his prose
Which he says, is due to his home in Montrose.
There once was a bobby named Bell his home was a Cumberland Fell When away on on his duty recovering booty his muse was the fair Isabel
There once was a bobby named Bell
his home was a Cumberland Fell
When away on on his duty recovering booty
his muse was the fair Isabel
There once was a bobby called Benn at Defra he ruled with his pen. But as for some knowledge, he understood forage was porridge for cattle not men.
There once was a bobby called Benn
at Defra he ruled with his pen.
But as for some knowledge,
he understood forage
was porridge for cattle not men.
There once was a rural bobby called to a fracas just before luncheon
He broke up the fight
From a drunken hen night
But left minus handcuffs and truncheon
Who found dog handling the perfect jobby
While GSD's and Great Danes
Lived up to their claims
Lapdogs just left his trousers soggy