In a few muddy vacant lots in the factory district of Sydney- head-thumping, heart-stopping rave music explodes from enormous speakers.
The low low base can be heard miles away, and the ominous but inviting beat is a beacon to all that hear it. People are dancing, drugged out but cerebral. They rub up against each other, it's sweaty, it's loud, it's dirty. And it's fun.
A sure fire sign that the party killing police will be coming soon.
They do turn up, a few times, but instead of the intolerance and impatience we've come to expect from Sydney's finest; they're orderly and patient. They make sure everyone is okay, and keep their distance. Then at the almost ungodly hour of 4am they decide it's time to go, music off, everyone leaves and a fantastic night ends without violence or anger.
A lesson to police worldwide that the Golden Rule still has currency.