Give praise to the humble list, for they bring order to our lives. Today's list is eight things I want to be when I grow up, and the reasons why I wont be.

1. Classical musician
I watch the Proms and oh, the orchestra all look so effortlessly and fabulously talented. Even the euphonium players manage a certain dignity and grace that assures you that even the beardiest of them must have a positive gaggle of groupies backstage scratching each others eyes out to clean their spit valve. But I can't make both my hands work in unison when doing even the simplest of tasks and my singing voice sounds like a weasel beng scraped over a cheap violin.

2. Prime Minister
I would enjoy absolute power corrupting me absolutely and besides, I can't think of another way I'd ever get to try and chat up Andrew Marr. Unfortunately, not unlike Coriolanus, I suspect my dislike of people would out and I might vomit if I had to pretend to enjoy shaking the hands of single mothers from a sink estate in Sheffield more than once. Not one likely to even get off the ground, then.

3. Assassin / Mercenary / Spy
Pro: Death-defying coolness. Con: Well, death.

4. Nineteenth centuary wit
Velvet smoking jackets, the adoration of a flock of London's very best sophisticates and all the young boys you can tempt to your room with the promise of a round of Canasta. But this is an occupation that seems to have been open only to men, the female equivalent being the dour Bloomsbury bluestocking who while in a hundred years may well be adored for her beautiful turn of phrase and evocative, modern prose, still isn't getting laid much.

5. Primary school teacher
Crayons! Sesame Street! 'Well Done' stickers! Cutting out and colouring in! Alphabetti spaghetti for lunch! Children! Scabby, whining, snotty children! Oh God! Ugh! The children!

6. Traveller
I wish I was the kind of person that could couch-surf my way around the world, living on 40p a day and having all manner of experiences with which I could bore friends and family upon my return. Unfortunately I am the kind of person who likes processed foods and long showers and would probably only get sucked into some religious cult for ten years on the very first stop of my round the world ticket because they promised me hot water and a Twix.

7. Museum Curator
Somewhere huge, dusty and old and full of tiny wooden cabinets like the Natural History Museum used to be before it decided everything must light up and have a button on it that a child can press. I know nothing about anything a museum might be interested in so I wouldn't last very long, but before I got fired I could relabel so many insects and bones with made up rude Latin names that it'd take them forever to find them all. Bliss.

8. Norse God
All the big things like birth, death, war and love have already been assigned, obviously, but there must still be some openings for goddesses of smaller things, I'm sure. Velour. Biscuits with currents in them. Plastic rainwear. And if my reduced stature means I never get to actually smite anyone, I could still have fun poking holes in the souwesters of nonbelievers. There doesn't seem to be much call for them these days, though.