Great fires of London...

Nope, my dreams of a career involving the sound effect nee-noh, nee-noh, nee-noh are entirely more superficial and fun-focused.

Firstly, there's the aforementioned nee-noh element to the job, which means you get to travel in a big red truck which flashes and makes a loud noise. All good so far.

Secondly, it seems pretty straightforward. The recurring emergencies, which need to be attended, never seem to involve much risk and often seem to be centred around a naughty ginger kid called Nor-man.
Cats stuck in chimneys, a sheep on a mountainside, a squirrel chewing through a flex... I think I could handle all of those things in my sleep. Just look at the way I negotiate our stairs these days. I bum shuffle down those bad boys like there's no tomorrow.

Thirdly, there's the fireman's pole. Nuff said.

And finally, Fireman Sam seems to have the best house in the world. His morning cuppa appears from a trap door in the wall and his yellow helmet descends from a similar structure in the ceiling just in time to top him off before Elvis (the fire officer with a quiff) picks him up in Jupiter the fire engine.
(I wasn't aware firemen were allowed to use the station vehicles as a staff taxi service, but would be delighted to benefit from a similar service).

So, Station Officer Steele, if you're reading and you're looking for a new recruit, Fireman Fred is ready and waiting to be taken on... (as long as I can lodge with Sam).