D.I.Why? - The Mojo Guide to D.I.Y.

D.I.Why? - The Mojo Guide to D.I.Y.

I was sitting at home the other day and I thought “Fuck me, I’m a useless bastard.”
It dawned on me that I don’t have any power tools and even more harrowing was that I realised that I have never used a power tool. I usually try to hang up framed pictures on the wall with blue-tac. I immediately googled: “D.I.Y. power tools Manchester.” I was given a number for a school called the “D.I.Y. School” I rang it up:

Mojo: hi who’s this?
Man on the other end of the phone: Who’s this?
Mojo: It’s Mojo.
Man on the other end of the phone: I’m Kevin. Why are you phoning Mojo?
Mojo: can I sign up to use Power tools?
Kevin, the D.I.Y. Man (K): You can use Power tools without signing up to a course
Mojo: Ha ha , yeah but I want to do the Power Tools course
K: There isn’t a Power tools course. We have a Home Maintenance course where some of the course we teach some power tool skills. We’ll show you how to use a power screwdriver and drills as well as cordless tools.
Mojo: Aye, sign me up for that one
K: I need to be specific though. Power tools only makes up a small percentage of the course.
Mojo: Aye, you said the magic words. Anything with “Power” and “Tools” and I’m on that shit.
K: Do you do DIY?
Mojo: Are you kidding? I’ve only learned how to use blue-tac. I thought a hammer was a rap star in the late eighties. That’s until I met that cunt Timmy Mallet.

So off I went to the D.I.Y. school. It was the first time that I had been to school in many years and I couldn’t wait to dig out my old Thundercats lunchbox. I filled it to the brim with jelly-based sugary snacks and 2 grams of cocaine. I grabbed a Yazoo and ran to my new school as happy as a cunt.

I busted open the front doors and I realised that I was in the right place. People were wile happy. It’s what I expected. MENTAL NOTE: Men with Power tools = profound satisfaction. Fuck me.... they must’ve been all on speed. I was playing catch-up so I went to the toilets and done a few lines of coke. I stepped into a room entitled “The WORK Room” and I smiled so brightly that it lit up the dark abyss that is my soul. It was predominantly men and they gave me knowing nods. I gave my own Ulster version of a knowing nod, which was a very paranoid facial expression. TO ULSTER!! People then frowned. I frowned then too. And then I wanted to go into a corner and blubber like a lost child but then I was approached by a bullish man about 5 feet tall. He had a crew cut and a “don’t fuck with me” smile:

Bullish man: Hi! I’m Kevin.
Mojo: It’s Mojo!
Kevin (Bullish man): Ah.. Mojo...you’re the power tool man. Finally,
[pause]..
We meet. There’s your work table. Go and have a cup of tea. Watch you don’t get the sugar mixed up with the MDMA....a common mistake. {laughter}
Mojo: I’ve made that mistake!

I feared that Kevin may kill me if I didn’t have a cup of tea. He gave me the “I’ll fucking cut you down if you don’t enjoy my tea you fucker” look. So I went to the kitchen. There were pictures of naked women near the kettle attached to the wall. That made me very happy. I made a cup of tea and I read the little articles next to the naked women. “Hi I’m Katey. And I’ll be voting for Conservatives at the next election. David Cameron is soooo dishy” read one article next to a tanned brunette girl with 36 DD breasts. Another read, “Hi! I’m Julie. I enjoy scrabble in my spare time and love a man with hard pecs. Yummy! Don’t do drugs kids ;)” I immediately wanted to run to my nearest gym and pump some iron. I threw the rest of my cocaine down the sink. I was a new man.

The course was the best day I’ve had in a while. There was no sex to complicate things and no awkward goodbyes at the end. The “Kiss or not to kiss” dilemma could be brazenly ignored. It was better than that Christmas I spent in Auschwitz with Santa Claus. It was better than that day Nelson Mandela was freed from Robin Island and was made King of all of Africa. And it was better than thon day David Hasselhoff brought down the Berlin wall with his music of love and peace, all by himself. He was looking for freedom and when he found it, he gave it to the world. What a fantastic guy. I clutched my Power Drill to my chest as I thought about David’s great fight against the evils of communism. What a brave man. I wondered if I could ever be as brave as him as I watched someone laugh as they screwed in a screw with a power screwdriver. It was a beautiful moment. Everybody in the place was smiling as they were using the power tools. This is what heaven must be like but with free sex and beer on tap. I fancy having French actress Marion Cotilliard (who starred in the Edith Piaf Biopic “la Vie en rose”) as my workmate in heaven. She’s a wee minx and I bet she’d love to see me use my Power Drill. Kevin spent most of the time high-5ing my fellow students as we successfully cut and hammered things. We were getting praised for enjoying ourselves. Kevin was the greatest teacher of the Power Tool. I’d only met one teacher of the Power Tool but I could tell by his politically incorrect conversations and the incredible way he blasphemed that he was the greatest. It’s hard to put into words how happy I felt. I often feel like I am wearing a jacket consisting totally of semtex that is ready to be detonated by Noel Edmunds at any moment but yesterday I felt as if I had lost my semtex jacket and inevitable death was possibly, unlikely.

Open your heart to the POWER TOOL.

MOJO
P.s. It seems strange but every word above of this blog is true.
P.p.s. Not the David Hasselhoff bit.
P.p.p.s. Not the King of Africa Nelson Mandela bit. He’s only the King of South Africa. Tootin’ Kamoon is the king of the North.
P.p.p.p.s. Not the 36 DD bit. I wasn’t sure about her breast size as I’m not that au fait with breast sizes. They were big though. Little boob children.
P.p.p.p.p.s. I hear Bruce Forsythe used to tell a woman’s breast size just by weighing their breasts in his hands. Sexual.