Ireland, my Ireland.

'FIRE FIRE! Look Look, that house is on fire!'
'Don't worry, I'll call a priest?'
'A priest?
'Sure.'
'Dont' be stupid, call a fire brigade. Look, it's hasn't fully caught yet, a fire brigade might be able to put it out.'
'No no, I'll just call the Parish Priest, he'll know what to do.'
'But he's not a fireman.'
'He's as good as one.'
'You're not making any sense and the house is burning to the ground!'
'Hold yer horses now, it will be all right.'
'But the flames are reaching the upper levels!'
'Hold on will ya! Hello father? HOwya doin'? Could you come out and have a look at something for me, I think there's a house on fire out here, burning to the ground by the looks of it. When? Next monday. Grand father, see you then.'
'He's not coming?'
'Not until Monday.'
'But it will be too late then.'
'Sure what can you do, lets go for a pint.'

That's how we do it here, old school. It's the best way.