If you haven't yet read Rusty is a Homosexual, do so. It's the story of a child who is rescued by a fireman, developing a fetish for men in uniform. It reminded me of something that happened to me when I was a kid.
I was four years old and my sister was eight. I went snooping around in her room. I had managed to bolt the door, but now I couldn't get it open again - I was locked in. I panicked and started crying. My family came running to see what had happened to me. They tried forcing the door, but it wouldn't move, so my mum called the fire brigade.
But I didn't need the fire brigade to rescue me - I had a plan. My favourite ad on telly was a Weetabix ad in which a strapping young man whipped off his shirt and dived from the top of a waterfall into a crystal pool. If he could do that, so could I. I looked out of the window. In the distance, beyond the houses across the road, past the fields, behind the factory, lay a pond.
When the fire brigade arrived, they found me stripped down to my underwear, balancing on the window ledge, hands together over my head. "Don't worry," I gaily told the fireman who climbed up a ladder to get me, "It's all right - I'm going to dive." He laughed and threw me over his shoulder, carrying me to safety.
Unlike Rusty, I didn't develop a fetish for firemen. Divers, possibly.