All his father and mother wanted was a blond, blue-eyed baby and they had Josh, their perfect boy. A teacher wrote in a school report that if there were 20 more like him in every class, a teacher's life would be so much more bearable.
He trusted life and believed in the Easter Bunny for much too long, and in Santa Claus. He was an innocent, taking everything on face value and accepting it for what it was.
He believed everything he heard, or thought he did. He was working once behind a hotel bar when a dinner went missing, so the kitchen called through to see if it had turned up, asking if he could look in the bar for a mixed grill. "Is there a Mr Squirrel in the bar? Looking for Mr Squirrel ..." Josh shouted, as the person on the end of the phone shrieked with laughter.
Sport and fitness drove him and he would compare calf muscles with his mates, laughing over who was the fittest. After school he did a degree in the science of human movement at the University of South Australia and had just bought into a gym where he worked as a physical trainer.
He was so good looking he and his friends would laugh at how easy it was for him to attract girls. With his cheesy grin, blond hair and footballer's body, not much was missing from his life.
"How good is this?" he said, splashing around in the pool in Bali. He expected life to be kind and, maybe because of that, it was.
He was a believer who once, just before Christmas, had picked up his holiday pay packet and was having a drink with friends. Later he left his wallet on the bar and, when he remembered, returned to get it. It was gone and he was flabbergasted that someone had stolen it. "Why would someone do this on Christmas Eve?" he asked in wonder.