My dad fainted in the street this week, three days of toothache-induced pain and sleeplessness finally getting the better of him.
He was on a busy main road, so many were passing as he fell.
Within a moment he was surrounded by three guys in their late teens, who carried him gently inside the nearest building with my shaken mum following.
They stayed with him until he regained consciousness.
My dad's memory of the whole thing is a sudden blackness, broken by the close-up of a friendly face saying calmly, "Hello Alex, my name is Connor." Connor, I'm told, had the bedside manner of a young Dr Kildare.
In my mind, he's George Clooney in ER.
Before he went grey.
Connor and his pals had been queuing to see Malefice, a British heavy metal band, and lost their place as a result.
Male teenage rock fans - no matter what the Daily Mail tell you, they're the angels of society.