Janie, with her blonde hair always teased up, occupied a unique position in the scheme of things. It turned out that she had a boyfriend way out there in Nunawading—a classy lad apparently who would not lower himself to watch her indulge in rough games. The boyfriend had an identical twin brother, which raised an interesting question when, at the time, their date of birth was drawn out of the conscription barrel. Since no two members of the same family were permitted to be drafted, the brothers got to choose who went and who didn’t. They did so by the most appropriate means imaginable—the toss of a coin, and Alan, Janie’s lover, lost.
    The whole matter, once revealed, placed Janie in a rarefied position in the world. Everyone was sympathetic and did anything she wanted. Actually, it was hard to tell what changed. Thus the route of the homeward journey that sweltering night had to be extended. The issue wasn’t assisted by the fact that the journey began one hour later, and, as we climbed the long hill in Whitehorse Road approaching Box Hill, the FJ, with its full compliment of passengers, decided it did not wish to participate any further in this nonsense, and ceased to function.

At this time, the Beatles released their second movie HELP!. In other words, it was when the mop-headed foursome were still in their middle-of-the-road popsters phase.
    The movie was bloody dreadful, all frenetic energy and no substance — a mad-cap romp that long outstayed its welcome. Not even Leo McKern, as the baddie, could save it. The only good bit was the opening credits with the boys doing the title theme and McKern throwing darts at their hated image. But the failure had no effect of the rampant success of the band, except perhaps to finally persuade them that it was time for a change of direction.