....it's a priviledge to be invited to write a blog here. Blogs are supposed to be amusing so let's see if I can't brighten up your day a bit.
I tend to travel around a fair bit & there come times when biological back pressures build up to a point where, if a certain portion of the anatomy isn't exercised, there's severe danger of detonation. Being in portugal was one of those times.....
If you’re on the Algarve maybe by the cab-rank at Loule or calling one to your hotel you might ask the driver to take you to find some meninas. Where you want is a club called Sanmar, but the cab could pull up in a rural area outside of town in front of what looks like a council house decorated for Xmas. Best policy at this point is to threaten the driver with kneecapping if he doesn’t run you back to town smartish. He won’t be offended, just put you down as a Brit with a bit of nouse. If he’s done a runner & you don’t fancy shanks’s for 10K take your life in your hands & walk round the back. That’s the car park. If there’s any cars in it they’ve probably been dumped there. Fire door to your left is the entrance. Toddle through to the delights within.
What confronts you is a light engineering company’s works canteen done up for a social. The walls are light green painted brick with the odd silver paper star drooping forlornly. The ceiling if I remember rightly was a refreshing black. The floor is cement. The sticky areas are probably carpet. To your right the length of stained chipboard with odd strips of imitation wood veneer is I believe intended to be the bar. I can recommend the supermarket beer at 5€ the bottle. Better stick with the bottle, don’t trust the glasses. The beer can be recommend because there’s nothing else. There are some other bottles but the labels are too old & stained to read. Having slaked your thirst turn round & admire the meninas. OK, now open your eyes & look again. Yes, they really are there. Trust me on this, you’ve not been drugged. I think the idea is that you pay these women for sex. Or it could be the other way round. Who knows? Who cares? In the first case it will be too much. In the second it will be too little; however much it is. There they sit on their row of tubular legged stackable chairs awaiting your every whim. I draw your attention to the Russian two from the left. I say Russian because she looks Russian, although the Russian I have in mind is the T34 tank. Look she’s standing up. You can hear the screech of tortured metal as the chair is relieved of her mass. I don’t think that’s a painter’s dustsheet she’s wearing. They don’t make them that big. The sequins are a nice touch though. Wow! Look at the dark girl on the end. Smiling. She hasn’t got any teeth.
And one speculates on whether the two elderly, dishevelled men lurking in the corner are customers or enticements to the gay trade.
Since I first published that little tale on the internet, I've been contacted by several people to confirm that this hell-hole does indeed exist & if anything, I've been overly generous in my description.
You have been warned.
