It's funny, the things that make you finally realise the danger of a situation.
When the boss told me she wanted to burn down a house live on TV, I knew it was dangerous. When she told me she wanted me to report from inside that burning house, I knew it was dangerous. When the fire service told me I had to wear cotton underwear, it went next level.
You see, I thought I'd be safe in the full head-to-toe firefighting kit they're dressing me in, with the big boots, helmet, gloves, pants and jacket -- not a hint of my skin will be exposed.
But things can go wrong, and if they go even a little bit wrong, I need my cotton knickers on. That's because, even inside that outfit, it's going to get pretty hot up close to those flames. And if I get too close with synthetic undies on, the manmade fabrics could melt into my skin and leave me with a tidy, permanent reverse tan line.
It's amazing how fast the flames will travel this evening.
The fireman in charge of keeping me safe reckons he'll eat his gumboot if we're still inside the house 15 minutes after I push the gas heater into the side of the couch. He reckons the thick, black smoke will be halfway down the walls by then.
If this house had a smoke alarm, it would be going off. But it won't have a smoke alarm. We've taken it down. Have you taken yours down? If you have, turn it back on.
Seventeen people have died in house fires already this year. It's been a bad few months. That's normally how many people die in house fires across a whole year.
I'm more than happy to army crawl my way out of a burning house in cotton undies once to remind everyone about fire safety, but this isn't happening again.
So, please turn your smoke alarm back on.
