Michael Twaits has spent over ten years quietly changing the drag scene from a small upstairs room at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern. Every Monday night, he welcomes a new group of people, many of them terrified, into a space where they can try things out, make mistakes, and begin to take up space as performers. The Art of Drag course has trained more than 200 people so far. Some go on to build careers. Others walk away with something less visible but just as important. A sense of voice, confidence, and creative freedom.

On 10 July, the RVT welcomed a warm crowd of familiar faces as Michael launched his first book, The Art of Drag: A Practical Performers’ Handbook. There were performances, laughter, confetti, and a live Q&A hosted by Dave Cross, Event Manager at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern, who interviewed Michael on stage about the course, the book, and everything in between. But at the heart of it was something deeper. A decade of teaching, mentoring, and mischief had turned into something permanent.

Michael opened the night with a theatrical entrance and a reminder of what the book is not. “It’s not a how to,” he said. “It’s a this might help.” That sentence captures everything about his style. Supportive, but honest. Camp, but thoughtful. Always rooting for the performer behind the persona.

The book is a distillation of the course, written in the same practical, no nonsense tone that has kept people coming back for years. It covers how to build a set, command a room, recover from mistakes, and deal with the realities of being a working drag artist. There are chapters on lip sync, parody, audience connection, booking work, and even how to send your tech sheet and headshots without ending up on the venue's blocked list.

"There’s nothing out there that says what you actually do on stage,” Michael said. “How to connect with an audience. What to do if you fall over. Just breathe".

It also touches on something many performers learn the hard way. How you present yourself when you are not on stage. “Once you're booked, just send it over,” Michael said. “There's pictures in there, there's a part, there's a couple of reviews, video, use anything. And then you're not caught out, you're not surprised.”‍

“What is the point in getting all dressed up if you don’t know what you’re going to do as a performer?”

Michael’s own story runs quietly underneath. In 2006, as part of his master's dissertation, he wrote a solo play that used drag to explore identity. That early work evolved into a two decade career shaped by performance, politics, and care. He spent ten years working with Pride in London. He built the course out of frustration after seeing how few spaces existed for people to try new things without pressure. He kept the doors open even when drag became more mainstream. And he kept saying the same thing over and over.
“If everybody who does drag does exactly the same thing, it kind of stops being drag.”

Over the years, the course has seen bath scenes, vegetable acts, and people emerging from tents. But it has also seen people come to terms with who they are or who they want to be. Some join to become professional drag artists. Others are exploring gender, building confidence, or just looking for a creative risk.‍

“Some people just want to wear sequins and see what happens,” Michael said. “Others are coming to explore something real. Everyone is coming for something different.”‍

Whatever the reason, the format remains simple. Ten weeks. One idea. A final showcase in front of a real audience.

Many names have passed through that upstairs room. Le Mans, who joined after a double lung transplant, became the spirit of the course. Nell Poit created a whole persona around Eurovision. Flippa Bean, Donny Trolley, Veronica, and Debbie Del Rey all debuted acts that now feel legendary in their own way. Others like Maria Hurst, Saoirse Gironan, Marloth, Aussie Mandayas, Volgare, Frank Lee Desire, Chlamydia Jones, and Holly Darn Something each brought something unpredictable and personal. Some returned years later. Some moved on. But all of them stepped through the same doorway.

The book also recognises how isolating drag can be when there is no rehearsal room or team behind you. “We don’t get research and development,” Michael said. “Our rehearsal process is trying something out on stage and hoping it lands. This book is meant to be the rehearsal room you don’t get.”

The final section includes interviews with seven working performers: Simply Barbra, Son of a Tutu, Me the Drag Queen, Hugo Grrrl, La Fil, Ada Campe, and Adam All. Each of them uses drag in their own way. Some are community driven. Some are politically sharp. Some blur the line between theatre and cabaret. All of them work outside the filter of television.

Michael is clear about that too. “This is not how to win Drag Race UK,” he said. “But if you want to learn what to do on stage, the acting, the singing, the lip sync, it’s all in there.”‍

“I love Drag Race. But I also watch The Apprentice. That doesn’t mean I think those are the sixteen best business minds in the country.”

He is honest about risk, especially when it comes to humour. “I love offensive humour, but it has to be funny,” he said. “That’s what some people don’t realise. You can say anything if it lands the right way. But know when it doesn’t.”

“You don’t need to quit your job or make drag your life,” Michael said. “I just want this to open doors. To give people a chance to play.”

That gesture, small but powerful, flows through everything he does. The Art of Drag: A Practical Performers’ Handbook is now available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle editions, making it accessible worldwide.

If you are drawn to learning in person, the next ten week course begins in September 2025 at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern. Classes take place on Monday evenings and finish with a live showcase at the RVT in November. You can book your place via the OutSavvy.

‍