TikTok University

The DIY Apocalypse Where Everyone’s an Expert – And Social Media Addiction Fuels the Madness

There used to be a time when mastering a skill was a badge of honour. It took years of practice, hard work, and qualifications to become a professional chef, hairdresser, or aesthetician. But thanks to TikTok, we’ve entered a brave new world where anyone with a ring light and an unearned sense of confidence can declare themselves an expert. Forget training. Forget qualification. Forget basic common sense. All you need is a “vibe” and some hashtags, and boom, you’re ready to ruin someone’s hair, face, or dinner.

Welcome to TikTok University, where disaster is the core curriculum, mediocrity gets a standing ovation, and anyone questioning the chaos is labelled a “hater.” From cooking to cosmetic procedures to literal aviation (yes, really), TikTok has birthed an army of overconfident, underqualified creators who are out to influence the world—one poorly executed service at a time.

TikTok Chefs: When “Vibes” Are the Only Ingredient

Once upon a time, chefs were revered artists who spent years perfecting their craft. Today, TikTok “chefs” have redefined cooking as little more than reheating frozen food and arranging it with the flair of a sleep-deprived toddler.

Take the classic TikTok meal: a Marks & Spencer’s fish pie. It starts in the microwave, where it’s nuked to the texture of molten regret. Then, for a side, they steam frozen vegetables until they achieve maximum limpness. The pièce de résistance? A swirl of ketchup, zigzagged across the plate as if Jackson Pollock had a bad day. The captions are the best part:“Michelin-star vibes tonight! #ChefLife #FoodieGoals”. Michelin-star vibes? Darling, this is barely cafeteria quality. It’s giving “school dinner tray,” not fine dining.

But don’t you dare suggest this isn’t gourmet. Criticism is met with the wrath of the TikTok masses:

• “Wow, jealous much?”

• “Not everyone can handle this level of creativity.”

Creativity? Sweetheart, it’s a microwaved pie. If this is creativity, then I’m Leonardo da Vinci every time I spread butter on toast.

TikTok Hairdressers: Cuts, Chaos, and Tears

Cooking disasters are bad enough, but TikTok creators aren’t content to ruin your dinner - they’re coming for your hair too. Once a profession that required skill, training, and an eye for detail, hairdressing has now been hijacked by overconfident amateurs with kitchen scissors and a ring light.

Imagine this: A hopeful client sits down, Pinterest photos of sleek blunt bobs in hand. Five minutes later, they leave looking like they’ve been mugged in a back alley by a drunk vagrant wielding a broken bottle. The TikTok stylist? Thrilled. “OMG, it’s giving edgy!” they squeal, posting a selfie with their victim. They slap a filter on to hide the uneven fringe and post it with hashtags like #HairGoals and #SmashItAgain. It doesn’t end there. Blow-drying is another TikTok horror show. A sleek, glossy finish? Forget it. Clients leave with a frizzy, burnt nightmare that looks like it was styled with a travel iron and an attitude problem. The stylist calls it “volume,” but we all know it’s just irreparable heat damage. The comments, of course, are an echo chamber of delusion:

• “This is a work of ART.”

• “Why pay for a salon when you can do it at home?”

• “Haters just don’t get your creative vision.”

Yes, Kev, because nothing screams creative vision like a haircut that makes you look like you lost a bet with a hedge trimmer.

 “Doctors are such a scam. Why pay thousands when you can DIY?”

TikTok Aesthetics: From Waxing to Fillers, No Licence Required

But the chaos doesn’t stop with hair. No, TikTok creators have now moved into the terrifying world of aesthetic procedures. Botox, lip fillers, and cheek enhancements - services once reserved for trained medical professionals—are now being offered by nail techs and waxing specialists who’ve “pivoted” into aesthetics.

Imagine lying back in the corner of a nail salon, surrounded by acetone fumes and fake plants, as the girl who used to give you a Hollywood wax approaches with a syringe. “Don’t worry, babe,” she says confidently. “I watched loads of tutorials, and this filler is, like, totally legit. I got it online.”

The results? A mixed bag of horror. Uneven, lumpy lips. Overfilled cheeks. Foreheads frozen into a permanent expression of surprise. But the TikTok aesthetician is undeterred. “Look at this glow-up!” they caption their work as if they’ve just performed a miracle. And if you dare to question why someone without a medical degree is injecting filler into people’s faces? “You’re just jealous of my hustle,” they’ll snap. Yes, your hustle, otherwise known as “actual bodily harm“.

Coming Soon: TikTok Surgery?

At the rate we’re going, it’s only a matter of time before someone on TikTok live streams a DIY heart transplant in their kitchen. The video will start with the usual upbeat intro,  “Hey guys! Today I’m saving lives with just household tools. It’s so easy #LifeHack!”

Out come the sterile tools; IKEA tongs, a butter knife, and a bowl borrowed from mum’s cupboard.

“Don’t worry, babes,” they’ll assure the patient. “I’ve seen all 12 seasons of Grey’s Anatomy. I’ve got this.” As the operation begins, the comments flood in:

• “OMG, you’re so brave!”

• “Doctors are such a scam. Why pay thousands when you can DIY?”

The patient, pale and shaking, lies there regretting everything. Meanwhile, the TikToker pauses mid-incision to bask in the praise. “See, guys? Told you I could do it. Confidence is key!”

When it all predictably goes wrong, they’ll post a follow-up video: “Hey guys, I just wanted to say I was trying to help. Doctors mess up too, but no one bullies THEM. Please send love, not hate.” Their fans will rally, of course. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie!”, “The NHS could learn from you.”

TikTok Cheerleaders

It would be bad enough if these overconfident TikTokers were just working in isolation, ruining hair and burning dinners behind closed doors, but no, they’ve got an entire legion of cheerleaders backing them up - arguably worse than the creators themselves. These are the self-appointed reviewers, hype men, and moral support squads who not only encourage these delusions but actively promote them to others.

Imagine leaving the house with a haircut that looks like Edward Scissorhands had a nervous breakdown halfway through. You’d expect a bit of honesty from your mates, right? But not in the TikTok world. Instead, the comments section is packed with people screaming “YAS QUEEN!” and “This is ICONIC!”

Worse, these enablers are the ones leaving glowing “reviews,” tagging their friends, and urging others to give it a go. “Honestly, I got my lips done by her, and she was soooo sweet. Only charged £50 and threw in a free eyebrow wax!” Yes, well done, Emma. Now you’ve got one lip bigger than the other, and your eyebrows look like startled caterpillars.

Their relentless support isn’t just annoying—it’s actively harmful. By promoting these unqualified amateurs, they’re not just undermining actual professionals but encouraging even more deluded behaviour. Every rave review convinces the next TikTok wannabe that they, too, can be the next big thing with zero training and a DIY kit bought on Amazon.

Social Media Addiction: The Engine of Idiocy

Behind every uneven fringe, every charred steak, every unfortunate case of “pillow face” from a back-alley lip filler job, there lies a single culprit: social media addiction. TikTok isn’t just a platform—it’s digital crack. The endless scroll, the dopamine rush of a viral post, the desperate need for strangers to comment “SLAY QUEEN” under a video of you committing actual crimes against hairdressing—it’s frying our collective brain cells like a deep-fried Mars bar at a Scottish chippy.

People aren’t learning skills to master them anymore; they’re learning just enough to convince the algorithm they know what they’re doing. And because TikTok operates at the speed of light, trends move so fast that no one has time to get good at anything before they’re onto the next disaster.

One minute, they’re butchering hair; the next, they’re offering unlicensed Botox in their mum’s conservatory. Give it a few months, and they’ll be live-streaming DIY LASIK surgery with a magnifying glass and the power of positive thinking.

And the worst part? Failure isn’t just accepted, it’s actively rewarded. If you mess up spectacularly enough, you don’t just get away with it; you go viral. Mess up a recipe? 2 million views. Ruin someone’s eyebrows? A brand deal. Accidentally invent a new way to give people chemical burns? Congrats, you’re an influencer now.

Where does it end? TikTok dentistry? TikTok brain surgery? TikTok nuclear engineering? At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before someone builds a working particle accelerator in their garden shed and attempts to split atoms with a tutorial they found under #ScienceHack.

And let’s not forget—this is the same internet that collectively agreed it was a great idea to steer a submersible with a PlayStation controller. If that doesn’t perfectly sum up the TikTok mentality, I don’t know what does.