AT SCHOOL I was force-fed Hardy, Dickens and that sort of thing; we were never allowed to read more recent fiction. I came across The Napoleon of Notting Hill when I was about 17, and it was a revelation.

The novel was written in 1904, and Chesterton looks forward 80 years to a time when Britain is ruled by a bureaucracy under the command of a randomly chosen King. When Auberon Quin is chosen he treats the whole thing as a joke, and makes every London borough a separate state. But the leader of Notting Hill is a fanatic. He opposes a new road, and, eventually, the whole city is drawn into war against him.

It was unlike anything I’d ever read before: a fantasy, where I had been stuck in grim reality. The war in London eventually brings meaning to the life of the bored inhabitants, and Chesterton seems to be saying that war can sometimes bring joy, which is, of course, a very unfashionable idea.

I came to the book again recently wondering if it is as good as I remembered it. This time I saw much more. I read Quin as a metaphor for God; maybe God is a joker like him, and all human life is a jest. That might sound bleak but it can just as well be hopeful: it means nothing should be taken too seriously.

And I hadn’t realised the impact that the book had on my life and my books. I think that my contempt for authority springs from The Napoleon of Notting Hill. My Horrible Histories books for children get accused of trivialising serious issues, but this book is the answer to that: it shows that laughter and respect can go hand in hand. I’m still interested in what it is to fight for something you believe in, and fascinated by people from history who do that.

That is what the Horrible Histories are all about.

The Woeful Second World War, and The Rotten Romans, from the Horrible Histories Series by Terry Deary, are available as BBC audio books, £5.99 on cassette and £7.99 on CD.

Interview by David Mattin