

“What I really wanted to do was create online projects entirely by myself.” Well, I say, he's certainly done that, so what's next? TV, a film, more books, an even greater online presence? He glances at his manager. Back at university, he'd had hopes of becoming an editor, perhaps a vision mixer he liked making stop-motion films. They live together just outside Portsmouth, from where they oversee their growing empires, although Garrett increasingly travels to Los Angeles for meetings.

She says yes, then asks Garrett if that's OK.įor a moment, he looks conflicted. I ask if it's OK to mention her in my piece. “I'm a yellow duck who loves playing games,” reads her website, on which she does pretty much what her boyfriend does. “Sorry, I was playing Minecraft,” she laughs, showing me her tablet. He points to a young, bespectacled woman sitting on the floor. Young fans wearing masks wait to meet Garrett “We can get an official line to you,” she offers, “but at this time we won't be answering any financial questions.”

“I'm sorry,” she says, “but he is not answering any questions regarding finances.” I explain that I need to address his wealth and would rather not rely on online inaccuracies. I am asking him what it's like to be better paid than the majority of Premiership footballers when from across the room his manager speaks up. His sensible sweater might just be from M&S. Rumours suggest that he makes at least £200,000 a month via Minecraft, though you wouldn't guess it from his dress sense alone. “People who can just come home and switch off. “I'm sometimes envious of people who have a 9-to-5 job,” he says.

