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About Setubal

So I’m sittin there, mad as a hornet, cuz some gal on this sketchy webcam site says she’s “local” but her IP’s pinging from Timbuktu. Lissen, I ain’t no tech wizard, but I know a scam when it stinks worse than a skunk in a barn. Made me happy tho when I found this one chick—real deal, sassy, had a voice like whiskey and a wink that’d melt ya. Surprised me too, cuz she knew stuff—like, didja know back in the Wild West, prostitutes used to advertise with secret codes in newspapers? Little known fact, buddy! She told me that, blew my dang mind.

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The place is riddled with hookers, strip clubs and happy ending Thai / Brazilian massage parlours targeting golfers.

First off, I hit up Rua de Santo António for my morning coffee. You know, the one place that serves the best bica? Yeah, that one. I’m standing there, waiting, and this tourist—like, seriously, dude—tries to order in English. I mean, c’mon, we’re in Portugal! So, I help him out, and he’s all grateful. I’m like, “No prob, just don’t ask for a ‘latte’ here, okay?” 😂

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