I don’t improve my clients’ lives, I transform them. Often radically. 

I relish creating an environment where people get more out of themselves, where they become more of who they really are. I’m the whetstone that sharpens them so they can slice through anything.

A journalist once asked me: ‘What makes you qualified to be a coach?’ For starters, I’ve built a great life for myself, one that fits who I am perfectly.

I grew up poor. Came to London at 22 with no money (by bus for 27 hours because I couldn’t afford a plane ticket), no formal education, and barely speaking any English. I spent the first six years working in fashion retail which I found uninspiring to say the least. When I set up my coaching practice at 28, I was £5k in credit card debt. For the first 26 years of my life, I was useless with women. And for most of my life, I was in okay shape at best.

Now I do what I love, with the people I love. I live in a penthouse overlooking the biggest landmarks of my favourite city in the world, and there is absolutely nothing (within reason) that I cannot afford. I couldn’t possibly be more happy with my dating life. I take plenty of mini holidays, staying in the best hotels and eating at the best restaurants everywhere I go. I’m in the best shape of my life, and only getting better.

When I say ‘You can have it all’, I’m speaking from experience, not just repeating a fancy catchphrase.

I believe, beyond any doubt, that I can be anyone, have anything, and be with anyone I want. I also believe that everything I’ve got, you can have, too. And more. If you’re willing to do the work, that is.

Over the last nine years, I’ve spent around 9,000 hours coaching around 450 men and women on a one-to-one basis; I’ve spoken at around 250 events on a wide variety of personal development and business topics; I’ve written a book and 100 articles. Today I don’t speak, I don’t write, I just coach – 25 to 30 extraordinary people at any given time.

I’ve been interviewed on a number of TV channels, including the BBC and Sky News, a number of radio stations, and featured on Eamonn & Ruth: How The Other Half Lives and Made in Chelsea. I’ve also been interviewed and written articles in magazines such as GQ, The Observer (print and online), The Times (print and online), The TelegraphEvening StandardMetro, City Matters (print and online), H EditionSquare Mile, Mayfair Magazine (print and online), Spear’s (print), City A.M. (print), Arabian Business Magazine, Portfolio Magazine (print and online), Luxury Lifestyle Magazine, and High Living (print and online).

I was included in the prestigious ‘Spear’s 500’ guide (their first ever feature of a personal coach). It’s a ‘Who’s Who’ guide to the key players in the UK’s wealth management community, and has been acclaimed as a ‘must have’ reference guide by family offices and high net worth families.

I’m in Leap – the world’s first full-length coaching documentary featuring the likes of Jack Canfield, John Demartini and John Gray.

I absolutely believe in coaching. Over the years, I’ve seen the profound effects it has had on my clients, other coaches’ clients, as well as experiencing it myself.

Other things about me:

• I’m OCD.

• I angel invest.

• I say fuck a lot.

• I’m not always happy.

• I’m 37 and I can’t drive.

• I’m a failed jazz trumpet player.

• I can’t handle heat or spicy food.

• I’m very much a dog rather than a cat person.

• I always laugh at my jokes. Others occasionally join in.

• I practice both radical honesty and radical open-mindedness.

• My extreme confidence is sometimes mistaken with arrogance.

• I’m prepared to try everything once. Except for heroin. And sex with a man.

• In everything I do, I aim for perfection and occasionally settle for excellence.

• I am as materialistic as I am spiritual and as egocentric as I am compassionate.

• People say that my kitchen looks like it has never been used. That’s because it hasn’t.

• I took so much MDMA in my late teens that my body became immune to it. Now my only ‘drug’ is wine really.

• My mother taught me to love everyone and my father to take shit from no-one. This is something I live by every day.

• I don’t have a TV, I don’t watch the news, I do spend more time watching Netflix (on my laptop) than anyone I know though.

• I used to think that I’m a man and therefore I can’t wear pink. Now I think that I’m the man and therefore I can wear whatever the hell I want.

• I know very little to nothing about most things, but there are a few things I know exceptionally well: people, personal development, and psychology of success and winning.

• If I could have a dinner with any 10 people (dead or alive), I would go for: Muhammad Ali, David Attenborough, Miles Davis, Gandhi, Ricky Gervais, Jesus, Steve Jobs, Jim Rohn, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Quentin Tarantino.

• ‘Michael Serwa has the kind of enigmatic charm, good grace and subversive darkness that makes innocent young people go down dangerous paths in Victorian novels’ according to David Levesley – News and Features Editor at British GQ…

• Despite my (often irreverent) humour, unconventional dating life, non-religious views, and overall political incorrectness, I’m actually a feminist, and massive on racial equality, religious equality, sexual orientation equality; equality, period.

• It took my parents 10 years to get over the fact that I quit school at 17. Now, that I can support them in a big way (which I consider to be one of my biggest and certainly most meaningful accomplishments in life), they don’t even mention it anymore funnily enough.

• Amongst other things, I’ve been called Ferrari, Russell Brand, Gordon Ramsay, Chuck Norris, and the dominatrix of coaching. I don’t know about the last one, but you get the idea. I’ve also been described as a hybrid of Wendy and Wags (characters from a TV series Billions).

• My untamed nature and unwillingness to blindly obey authority got me in trouble with some teachers and bosses (and consequently fired from a couple of jobs). From a very young age, I’ve followed the rules that make sense to me and spoken out against the ones that don’t.