On the bank of the River Snare stood Yaxley Farcett and Brian Worthington. In the middle of the river the faintest of outlines could be seen of the Van that the pair had recently escaped from. The day was warming up and a pleasant breeze blew across the fields as the pair waited for assistance from the uniformed police in Ealham. After ten minutes of gazing out over the horizon, Yaxley snapped out of his reverie when his mobile phone began to ring. It was Sergeant Stumpsfield from Ealham who was heading out to join them to oversee the recovery of the East Anglian Water Authority van which held valuable evidence in it's present murky location. 'D'You know this Stumpsfield, Brian' asked Yaxley as he brushed more drying slub from his precious 501's. 'Yeah' replied Brian. 'He's from Barnham. I went to school with 'im'. 'That figures' thought Yaxley. Needn't have asked. Drive down a road and meet his nephew, get a murder case and it's committed on his brother's farm, ask him about a policeman and he went to school with him. He knew that areas like this were close knit but this was ridiculous. A far cry from his big city upbringing in Bradford. 'Well, what's he like ?' continued Farcett. 'Solid 'ol Bor. Built like a brick shithouse. He's only five foot five but weighs about seventeen stone. He yewster play for the East Anglian Police rugby team. He were one of them that yewster split his shorts every game.' Yaxley 
nodded thoughtfully. He'd yet to meet any of the 'regular' Police. he wondered what Stumpsfields attitude would be as he'd been warned there was a certain amount of animosity between the regulars and the Drainage Board Police.
nodded thoughtfully. He'd yet to meet any of the 'regular' Police. he wondered what Stumpsfields attitude would be as he'd been warned there was a certain amount of animosity between the regulars and the Drainage Board Police. In the distance he could hear the growing swell of the distinctive sound of a helicopters rotor blades. Not that he'd ever been near one. He'd seen all the Vietnam films which seemed to delight in showing a dozen machines flying off into a glorious blood red sky with their blades going 'Whoosh Whoosh Whoosh' to a background of rousing classical music. The speck in the distance increased in size from that of a grasshopper to the real thing, as the East Anglian Police 'Sky Patrol' (known to the locals as 'The Flying Pig') hovered overhead. As they raised their heads and received a thumbs up from the pilot, Sergeant Stumpsfield pulled up at the side of the river in his patrol car.
Stumpsfield lumbered across the grassy bank and extended a hand towards Farcett as Brian Worthington made the introductions. A chain with grippy bits was lowered from the helicopter as Stumpsfield threw himself into the water fully clothed, with no regard for the state of his uniform. 'Blimey' remarked Yaxley, 'He's a bit gung ho, isn't he ?' 'Yew wait' replied Brian. 'He's got a reputation of being a tough sod. He's only ever been off sick twice in twenty two years on the force. The first time was for one and a half days after he'd been shot through the head. Apparently, the doctor said the bullet passed clean through his brain. The only other time, he had to hev two months off when he tore all the ligaments in his leg while he were chasing after a fish and chip van for his dinner'. Worthington paused, 'There'll be a photographer along in a minute. It's Stumpy's speciality; climbing out of the river in his uniform, covered in Cak. Last month he rescued a cow, the month before that it were a bloke who'd fell off his bike. When he gets the call he rings The Ealham Observer and they send a snapper round. It'll be the big news story this week- Stumpy saves vital evidence in water drama.'
Sure enough, after the chain with grippy bits had been attached to the van by Stumpsfield and the Helicopter had manoeuvred the van onto the bank, a car arrived decked out in garish adverts for the Ealham Observer. No sooner had the photographer arrived at the river side and focused his camera than Stumpsfield crawled up the bank, mud all over his face and puffing like a marathon runner. He walked over to the van and stood proudly to attention as the flash went off. The photographer said 'Cheers Stumps' and left. 'Told yer' muttered Brian, a little cynically.
