Well, hundreds of them, according to Mort, except that after a time I noticed that each seemed to behave in exactly the same fashion. The only variation was where Mort had met her which always just happened to be wherever he went last Saturday night, her name, and which of the nubile decorations she most resembled. Mort told the same story, over and over, and I supposed that it was to Mort’s credit that his enthusiasm was utterly undimmed by the monotony.
    The other men, those from the factory and the visiting delivery drivers, were always interested to hear Mort’s latest tale, although they would have heard it even if they had not been interested. They teased Mort, or chided him, or tried to convince him that there was more to life than the pursuit of female flesh, but I could see that they envied him. Usually, if they got the chance to respond at all, it was to moan about the shortcomings of married life, and how lucky Mort was to be single. Mort Decker was the man that all those other men wanted to be. I wouldn’t have minded being a little bit like him either.

Lotte and Lisa by Erich Kastner, is, of all books on my shelves, the most improbable. Odder still that I paid good pocket money for it. A German story of confusion over identical twin girls—who are divvyed up when the parents separate—meet accidentally, and secretly swap places. But Walt Disney filmed it as The Parent Trap, and it incurred the longest queues ever seen outside a cinema in Melbourne. In fact it was the most popular movie by far in the world that year. It’s really little better than an average episode from an American sit-com, although Hayley Mills performs extremely well. I remain amazed by what could be amazing in those days.