The children’s author who has sold millions of funny (and disgusting) books talks about challenging nervous adults and being married to his editor Jill

To start with the question millions of children want answered: no, Andy Griffiths does not live in a treehouse. His very nice home in Williamstown, Victoria – firmly on the ground – does not contain a mud-wrestling arena or anti-gravity chamber, but it does have a very sleek front room with big art and huge windows looking out over the ocean. Griffiths – softly spoken, angular from years of running, tattooed from years in punk music – walks me through his back yard, to a little granny flat on stilts (almost a treehouse). This is where he dreams up books that have made him Australia’s fastest and highest-selling author: 19m copies sold around the world, 13m of those in Australia.

“This is where I have my fun,” he says, discretely nudging a rubber lizard out of my path with his shoe.

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