Friday evening and the accident and emergency department of London’s St Thomas’ hospital resembles nothing so much as Heathrow’s Terminal 5.

The doors of A&E open to the rainbow of nationalities and cacophony of languages that, like the airport, remind you that Britain’s capital really is a global city. There is, too, the same air of restless anxiety, the scarcely suppressed fear of a long wait ahead. Where to queue? Is everyone else playing by the rules? How long before you will be seen?