I grew up in Knottingley, a small town in West Yorkshire. For as long as I can remember, I've been obsessed with drawing. When I was a kid, there was an old man who used to paint by the canal near where I lived. He saw something in me and gave me my first proper set of art supplies — paints, brushes, the lot. That moment lit a fire in me that never went out.

By the time I was thirteen, I'd done my first tattoo. A compass needle, some Indian ink, and a mate brave enough to sit still. It wasn't pretty, but I was hooked. I spent my teenage years getting tattooed in local shops — sneaking in well before I was old enough — and falling deeper in love with the art form, especially the black and grey work that still defines my style today.

I joined the military after school, and even there I couldn't leave it alone. I set up a secret tattoo station in my room, tattooing the lads at weekends when the block was quiet. I got caught, of course. A sergeant ripped the quilt off my bed and found the whole setup. But after giving me a dressing down, he pulled me aside, looked at my work, and said, "You're not bad actually — would you be able to do this for me?"

That moment told me everything I needed to know about where my future was heading. After leaving the military, I started a property renovation business and set up a small tattoo studio in my back garden shed. I was still learning, spending hundreds of hours watching YouTube videos and practising whenever I could. But I knew that if I was serious about tattooing, I needed to commit fully. So I approached every tattoo shop I could find, looking for an apprenticeship.

The response was brutal. I was treated like an outsider who'd insulted them just by walking through the door. The industry had this gatekeeper mentality — if you hadn't earned your place the traditional way, you weren't welcome. That rejection could have broken me. Instead, it made me more determined than ever.

In 2013, I made the leap. I left the property business behind, borrowed money from my mum, signed a three-year lease, and opened my own tattoo shop. I had no clients, no reputation, and no safety net. I put everything I had into that studio. The early days were dark. There were months where I'd sit in the shop all day waiting for someone — anyone — to walk through the door.

I remember one evening, my wife asked me to pick up some bread and milk on the way home. When I got to the till, I didn't have enough cash. I tried my card. Declined. I'd put every last penny into the shop, and I had nothing left. I walked home empty-handed with a gut feeling screaming at me that I'd failed my family. That night, I made a promise to myself: I would never be in that situation again.

I went back to work with everything I had. I took a part-time job to keep the bills paid while the shop found its feet. I kept my designs simple, built trust with every client, and focused on making sure every single person who sat in my chair had the best experience possible. Slowly, word of mouth started to spread. Bookings started coming in. And I started to breathe again. What really changed the game was learning to think like a business owner, not just an artist. I threw myself into marketing — spending over £100,000 on courses, books, and training over the years. I built my brand methodically, invested in social media, and treated every customer interaction as an opportunity to grow. It wasn't my tattooing ability that got me to where I am today. It was learning how to run a business properly.

Over time, I specialised in black-and-white realism, gradually increased the complexity of my work, and built a waiting list that stretched months into the future. Clients started flying in from other countries just to get tattooed by me. I raised my prices slowly, looked after my repeat customers, and eventually reached the top 1% of earners as a solo tattoo artist in the UK — working fewer hours than I ever had before.

But the thing that changed my direction completely was the number of people asking me how to get into the industry. Every week, I'd get messages from people desperate for an apprenticeship, and I knew exactly how they felt — because I'd been there. The traditional system was broken. Studios didn't have the time or interest to train people properly, and talented artists were being turned away simply because they didn't know the right people.

So I cut out the middle man.

I filmed a few beginner tutorials and put them on YouTube. They exploded — tens of thousands of views almost overnight, and hundreds of comments from people saying they'd been looking for exactly this. That was the moment Tattoo Method Pro was born.Today, Tattoo Method Pro is a 200+ lesson online course that gives anyone the skills to enter the tattoo industry at a professional level — no apprenticeship required. Hundreds of my students have gone on to open their own successful studios around the world. I've also written and published my book, Learn How To Tattoo In 30 Days, which gives people a taste of the course and a proper foundation to start their tattoo journey.

My mission is simple. I want to fix an industry that's been gatekept for too long. I want to give people the skills, the business knowledge, and the marketing tools to build a real career in tattooing — regardless of their background, their connections, or where they're starting from.