EVERYONE knows what real men want. After they have finished driving around in fast cars, talking about football, and listening to loud music, what they want is an electric drill. Every alcove is an invitation to put up beautifully-crafted shelving, every problem with the central heating an opportunity to demonstrate their skill with bleed valves, stop-cocks and adjustable spanners.

Generally, all they seek is admiration, in the same way that a puppy will fetch a stick for you in return for a gentle tickle under the chin.

But, said one of my friends, looking at my latest efforts of gently sloping book shelves and lumpy tiling, there must be more to it than that. “There must be people who would pay to have jobs like that done,” he said. “You have the time and you need the money — why don’t you go out and find them?” He is a good friend, but I wondered for a moment whether he might be having a cruel joke at my expense. I may lack a businessman’s eye for a market niche, but I cannot help thinking that there may be limited demand for carpentry held together with Blu Tack and tape.

But I guess I am in a minority. Thousands of people make extra cash by doing odd jobs for friends and relatives — and there are people for whom trading in the office desk for a spirit level and a set of spanners is a real alternative. In Nottingham, Jason Dawe had 100 replies to a single advertisement in his local paper when he was looking for a couple of handymen to join his firm.

“We have one retired chap working for us part-time — but the replies came from all sorts of people, all ages and backgrounds,” he said. “Many of them had been running their own businesses, but were better at the practical skills than the business side of things. We can guarantee them a full working week, which gives them more security.”

It doesn’t give them a huge income — £7.50 an hour is the going rate — but it does mean they are not chasing jobs and dealing with accountants.

The company, Nottingham Handyman, does much of its work in partnership with local councils, helping the elderly and disabled. But there are vast differences in what would-be handymen can make in different parts of the country. In London they could easily double their money.

Nick Bear, for instance, finished 27 years as a high-flying management consultant four years ago when his job was reorganised out of existence. His first thought, like most people who are made redundant, was to go on doing what he had always done, but on a job-at-a-time basis: businessmen become consultants like actors “rest” between jobs, or journalists become freelances.

He had a couple of other strings to his bow. He had worked as a mechanical engineer about three decades earlier, and he had also picked up a professional qualification as a yacht skipper. Also, crucially, he had done a lot of DIY jobs around the home for friends and relatives over the years — and that was what he finally decided to build on. “I am working pretty much full-time now, doing handyman jobs around London. I do a bit of freelance consulting now and again, and I have occasional jobs as a yacht skipper or a sailing instructor. On top of my pension, it keeps me busy and gives me a bit of an income,” he said.

Bear signed up with a company called 0800 Handyman, which supplies skilled men with hammers and screwdrivers. They are very clear about what they can do and when it is time to call in a professional tradesman — but all-round skills like Bear’s are much in demand. I caught him between jobs: “I’ve just been taking down a light fitting in someone’s flat, and making good the ceiling, and I am about to go round to a business customer to change his light bulbs. Then I am off to a homeless hostel to fix a jammed door, and my last job today is rehanging a heavy-duty curtain rail,” he said.

“I hadn’t realised it until I was made redundant but, for a couple of years before that, the fun had gone out of work. There wasn’t any excitement in it. Now, every day is different, and I really enjoy what I do.”

Another 0800 Handyman, Ken Rose, 61, agreed. “I was a traffic policeman, with 21 years in the Metropolitan Police,” he said. “You have no idea what a difference it makes to your life when you knock on people’s doors, and they are pleased to see you.”

Apart from a dislike of knocking on strangers’ doors, those years in the police also gave him a pension that provides a basic income. “It’s not so much about the money. It’s nice to get out to work and not feel I am on the scrapheap. And after all, you can’t teach experience,” he said.

The 0800 Handyman business was set up by Bruce Greig. He is not interested in paper qualifications, but in people who can demonstrate that they have the right skills. Like Dawe in Nottingham, he is looking for people who can handle plumbing, electrical work, and minor building and decorating jobs. But, more importantly, he wants people with all-round ability.

The difference is that in London, they can earn more than £30,000 a year. “Obviously, they must have the skills to do the handyman work to a high standard but, on top of that, we are looking for people who can get on well with the customers and sort out problems on their own initiative,” said Greig.

“Once someone has applied, we test their skills, and then send them out with an experienced member of staff for a day. Nine people out of ten don’t make it to the end of this stage. Those that do are closely monitored for their first three months.”

You also need to be able to ride one of the company’s motorbikes around London. But the crucial point for people like me is that, whatever my friend says, there doesn’t seem to be a place anywhere for someone for whom knocking a nail in straight represents a triumph of co-ordination. I was right first time: nobody is going to pay good money for my dodgy tiling.

Contact Andrew Taylor at aftershock@sunday-times.co.uk

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