There's a lady on the station in danger of collapsing then a kind bloke fans his newspaper over her and finds her a seat. The air is not moving, neither are the trains. Anywhere else in the world this would be a recipe for outright chaos and mayhem. Guns would be drawn, blood would seep onto the tracks and sizzle in the scorching sun. The populace would rise up demanding the government do... something. But not in Sydney. "Bit hot", says a man. "Fry an egg, mate" says the fellow traveller. And they listen to Ipods and read newspapers and occasionally fan pretty girls, cause you never know your luck in a big city.
