Everyone’s a F*****g DJ

Everyone’s a f*****g DJ – you can’t throw a stone in West London without hitting a DJ! When you meet them down the pub its hi what do you do?  I’m a Property Developer but actually I’m a DJ. Oh me? I’m a Chef but believe it or not, actually I’m a DJ. You’ll never guess to look at me, I’m a Builder but actually if you really want to know I’m a DJ…Arghhhhhh! 

 

No you’re not a f*****g DJ! You’re just some sad c**t  with a pair of dusty decks that sits under your f*****g bed until a group of poor sods get invited round for a party and you wheel out all the shit vinyl you’ve stacked up for donkey’s years, (tunes that were shit the first time round) and you subject your long suffering guests to an evening of mind numbing bollocks whist waving your arm in the air shouting “Tune!”  

 

So what to do with this collection of half-wits and their half tonne of f*****g useless, shitty vinyl?  Get them all in a room together with their wheels of steel so they can bore each other to death with “Big shout outs!” to imaginary friends?  Get them all to swap their shit compilation tapes so they can compare notes on obscure tracks like f*****g train spotters and leave us all alone?  Actually get them to play a gig – a real gig – and watch them being stoned, not with dope but with half bricks, because they’re f*****g useless, with about as much DJ’ing skills as a one armed monkey with cerebral palsy! 

 

 

 

 

Well I’ve got a f*****g radical idea! We’ve just had the coldest winter on record for over 30 years with a thaw that has left the roads with an unprecedented amount of potholes, with a road repair bill of over £30 million pounds. 

 

So lets get all those f*****g shit ‘toy DJ’s’ and chain them together whilst they walk behind a mobile tarmac melting pot and f*****g great big road roller with a huge PA system strapped on board blasting out ‘Last Night A DJ Saved My Life’. Then, the chain-gang of useless c**ts, sorry DJ’s, can shuffle behind whilst passing their records along the line. Then a big, hairy, Road Navy can shovel their shitty heaps vinyl straight in the pot and bingo! Pour the f*****g lot into the various potholes and roll away. Hot melted vinyl finally put to some good use, sparing us all from the f*****g crap that pressed onto it and the tone-deaf tuneless twats that insists on playing it! 

 

We can all line the streets as they pass, waving our arms in the air giving the useless c**ts ‘a big shout out’ whilst screaming “tune!” happy in the knowledge we’ll never have to listen to their shit music ever again! 

 

We could send teams of shit bedroom DJ’s around the country repairing our broken roads and finally nail the true meaning of the initials DJ…the immortal clobber of any self respecting road worker the Donkey Jacket.

 

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