In March last year he said he was going to sue Northumbria police for leaving him "a sitting duck" while Moat was on his rampage.
About 150 sitting members of the departing Commons are not up for re-election, struck from party lists or ducking out after disclosures about expense claims for floating duck houses, moat clearance, nonexistent home mortgages and other excesses.
The officer, who joined Northumbria police in 2000, later announced that he was suing the force, claiming he had been left "a sitting duck" after Moat declared war on the police.
When you read of such sentences, remember that this is the same country in which – just a few years ago – over 300 parliamentarians were found to have claimed expenses to which they weren't entitled; hundreds of thousands handed over to some of the richest people in the country for duck houses, moat repairs and heating their stables.
But duck islands, moats and arboretums were viewed far more leniently by the electorate as the Conservatives flourished in constituencies where their members had been exposed.
As in Britain, where tales of duck houses, moat-cleaning and pornographic DVDs dominated the headlines, it has been the more tawdry breaches that have got the most coverage.
In other words, MEPs can spend their allowances on holidays, duck ponds, moats, mortgages or whatever takes their fancy, safe in the knowledge that neither the dreaded media nor taxpayers will ever find out.
News of MPs' expenses led to memories of duck houses, moats, and a trouser press.
But the spectacle of a nation foaming at the mouth over ducks and moats and mortgage payments while the bankers are still wangling their bonuses – apparently forgotten as the real villains of a vastly bigger story – tells much about both our national attention span and sense of proportion.
But a duck house, a moat and a bit of free gardening are hardly an "opportunity for personal enrichment".
