1. Rider manager at the O2
Forget photocopying forms, filling in spreadsheets and making tea for Claire in HR who has no sugar, no milk and no sense of humour. Being in charge of the riders at London’s biggest gig venue means your daily tasks would include sourcing seven dancing micro pigs for Swifty, a 300-gallon tub of arnica cream for Madge (just in case) and a few thin shreds of dignity for S Club 7.
2. Guy Fawkes at the London Dungeon
Plotting crimes, playing with explosives and rocking a seriously cool hat is all in a day’s work for G-Fawx. And what a badass day that sounds like. Sure, you’re not the real Guy Fawkes (don’t tell the schoolkids at the Dungeon that), but at least you won’t be hanged, drawn and quartered, eh? Forget being a brain surgeon or a dog rescuer – add this to your Tinder profile and watch your matches go off the Richter. Boom! Literally.
3. Tube announcer
We Londoners are a passive aggressive bunch, and never more so than when we’re faced with the pain of early morning tube travel. If you were in charge, you’d command the commuting hordes like the general of an army of briefcased soldiers. ‘You in the pinstripes! Step away from the doors! Everybody clear some space for Preggo McPreggerson! Oi! Folding bike! Leave it aaaht!’ There’d be no delays on no goddamn Northern line with you on the mic.
4. Secret agent
After a decade of Facebook stalking, you’re pretty much a shoo-in for London’s next top spy. Sure, there’d be the occasional foiling of an overseas attack, but most days would involve peeking through the neighbours’ windows, following that hottie you met once off OK Cupid and then heading to the pub to tell the gals how you spied Crazy Angela from number 23 chewing on her toenails in the bath. Grim.
5. Chocolate taster at Paul A Young
Being paid to eat has always been The Dream, so landing the role of a taster at Paul A Young – one of London’s finest chocolatiers – would be The Dream with a cherry on top (which we’d nail too). Imagine spending eight hours a day munching through lemon cheesecake truffles and honey rose caramels just to check that the truffles were truffley enough and that the caramels were sufficiently caramely. You can stuff your office job, we’re getting fat for a living.
By Liz Darke, who really shouldn’t be allowed to become a tube announcer any time soon. Or, in fact, any time.
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