Prozzie hunting

In between weighing up next years options today (Vietnam, Peru, Cairo and the UK in that order in case you're interested) I took a little walk out to Casa de Campo, a park that is quickly overtaking Retiro as my favourite Sunday hang-out.

Retiro, as you may recall, has the only statue of the devil in the whole world in it and lots of rastas smoking weed so how can anywhere possibly beat that I hear you cry.

Well Casa de Campo is well known for it's prostitutes.

Over by the lake with the big fountain that you can see from Plaza de Espana, where the civilised people go to row about is a microcosm of South America.

Every Sunday, the Latinos from Equador, Peru and the Spanish-speaking parts of that part of the world gather around Lago station, serving up cheap food and drink, dishing out cheap haircuts and fake DVDs among themselves and, being a hungry type, I have made this haven of cheap tasty grub my regular Sunday lunch.

This week, I thought I would show Dade the sights so we could sit around and bitch off about the weeks events.

Now the thing is, for months Phil, a mutual friend of mine and Dade has been telling me that Calle Monterra, the hooker-street in the centre of Madrid was not the best place to get an eyeful and he told me and Dade that if we walked around Casa de Campo, the prossers are actually NAKED!

Never one to miss an opportunity, me and Dade polished off the random Equadorian nosh and headed where we thought we were most likely to find some naked totty. Deep into the bush.

Dade had suggested that IF he were the type to utilise such services that he would most likely do so off the beaten track, so we headed uphill and into the undergrowth.

Strangely, hunting for naked girls in undergrowth made me feel oddly primal like I should have a spear in my hand, perhaps shaped like a dildo or something as we ducked and dived through the thorny brambles.

We had walked for nearly half an hour in the searing heat until finally, perched upon a hilltop I saw one!

"Look!" I said, "Let's chase it!"

Blinking in the sunlight, Dade said,

"I can't tell from here but my eyes are telling me that it's a man"

"Well MY eyes tell me it's naked! Let's go!"

But before I could set off the naked thing had disappeared over the horizon like a big naked gazelle. All was lost.

As we headed back through the park I couldn't help feeling like a second rate huntsman with like a broken bow or something. My one chance at seeing some REAL nakedness and I blew it.

I was inconsolable.

Then Dade bought me an ice-cream in McDonalds and we watched the second episode of Torchwood with the lesbian scene and everything suddenly seemed ok again.

Oh happy adventures....
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