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, discreetly nudging a rubber lizard out of my path with his shoe.
