22/08/2026
YOU’RE NOT STUCK. YOU’RE ASKING THE WRONG FU***NG QUESTION.
I’ve realised something while I’ve been sitting here in Florida.
For the last eight months, I’ve been answering the wrong questions.
Not giving the wrong answers.
Answering the wrong fu***ng questions.
People ask me all the time what it’s like working online. Is it worth it? Do I enjoy it? How long did it take? Do I think they could do it?
And because I’m trying not to be a complete bellend, I normally answer them.
Yeah, I love it. Yes, it’s worth it for me. Yes, you could probably learn it. No, it didn’t happen overnight. Yes, there were times I wanted to launch my laptop through a window.
But sitting here in Orlando, thousands of miles from home, something suddenly clicked.
People do exactly the same thing with holidays.
“What’s Florida like?”
Fu***ng hot, mainly.
But what does my answer actually do for you?
I could spend twenty minutes telling you about the weather, the parks, the food, the people and how bloody expensive everything is. You could look at the photos, tell me how amazing it looks and say, “I’d love to do that one day.”
And then go straight back to exactly the same life you had before you asked me.
Because maybe the question was wrong.
Maybe instead of asking me:
“What’s Florida like?”
you should be asking yourself:
“What would have to change in my life for me to actually get myself to Florida?”
Completely different question.
And once I saw that, I started noticing it everywhere.
“Is working online worth it?”
Wrong question.
What would I need to learn to find out whether I can make it work for me?
“Do you think I could do it?”
Wrong question.
What’s the first thing I need to prove to myself?
“How long does it take?”
Again, wrong fu***ng question.
Because what are you going to do with the answer?
If I say six months, are you starting?
What if I say two years?
What if I tell you I haven’t got a clue because you’re a completely different human being with different skills, circumstances, commitments and levels of determination?
This is where I think a lot of people accidentally get themselves trapped.
They’re not doing nothing.
That would be too obvious.
They’re researching.
Watching videos. Comparing courses. Following people. Asking questions. Saving posts. Joining groups. Downloading guides. Thinking about niches. Looking at different business models.
They’re very fu***ng busy.
But nothing is actually changing.
And that’s the clever bit.
Because asking questions feels productive.
You get the little buzz of believing you’re moving forward without having to risk anything. No chance of failure. No uncomfortable first attempt. No embarrassing post that gets seventeen views. No possibility of discovering you’re s**t at something before you eventually get good at it.
You can remain safely in the audience, interviewing people who got on stage.
And I think some people have been doing that for years.
They’re interviewing the life they want instead of building it.
Now, there is another side to this because I’m not going to turn into one of those internet t***s shouting “JUST START” at everyone.
Sometimes you genuinely don’t know what to do.
Sometimes the path is confusing. Sometimes there’s too much information. Sometimes ten different people are telling you eleven different fu***ng things.
That’s where good teaching matters.
If somebody is standing at the bottom of a staircase looking confused, screaming “CLIMB!” from the top isn’t particularly helpful.
Show them the first step.
Make it smaller.
Make it clearer.
Give them something they can actually do.
But there comes a point where you know enough.
Maybe not enough to build the whole business.
Maybe not enough to quit your job.
Maybe not enough to know whether any of this will eventually work.
But enough to take one sensible step.
And after that point, another twenty questions aren’t giving you clarity.
They’re giving you somewhere to hide.
That was the uncomfortable realisation I had sitting here while watching a very questionable helicopter tour fly very close to the hotel.
Some people aren’t lacking answers.
They’re using questions to postpone decisions.
Because decisions have consequences.
Questions don’t.
You can ask me whether I enjoy working online and walk away exactly the same person.
But ask yourself what you’d need to learn this week to earn your first £100 online?
Now we’ve got a problem.
Because that question demands something from you.
You might actually have to fu***ng do it.
And maybe that’s why we prefer the other questions.
They’re safer.
We can stand at the edge of the water asking everyone swimming whether it’s warm.
“How deep is it?”
“Was it scary getting in?”
“How long did it take you to learn?”
“Do you think I’d be any good at swimming?”
Eventually somebody has to tell you:
Mate…
You’ve been standing there in your trunks for three fu***ng years.
Get in or go home. S**t or get off the pot.
Because there are some answers nobody can give you.
They have to be experienced.
I can’t tell you whether building something online will change your life.
I can tell you what it changed about mine.
I can’t tell you whether you’ll be good at it.
I can tell you what you could learn.
I can’t tell you whether you’ll succeed.
Nobody fu***ng can.
But I can tell you this.
If you’ve spent the last year asking the same questions and your life still looks exactly the same, you probably don’t need another answer.
You need a better question.
So stop asking people what the life you want feels like.
Stop interviewing it.
Stop spectating it.
And ask yourself the question you’ve probably been avoiding the whole time:
“What would I actually have to change to make that life possible for me?”
Because maybe you’re not stuck at all.
Maybe you’ve just become incredibly good at standing still while calling it research.
Stop interviewing the life you want.
Start building it.
Less excuses. More decisions.
Fu***ng wallop.
