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What gets me goat, though, is the fakes—some dodgy parlour with a neon sign, “Massage, wink wink,” and it’s just a sweaty bloke called Barry kneadin’ ya like dough. Fuck off, Barry! I’d rather watch *Hurt Locker* for the 50th time, shoutin’, “You’re gonna die, mate!” at the telly. But when it’s good—fuck me—it’s proper lush. Like, “Welcome to the hurt locker, soldier,” but instead of bombs, it’s bliss.

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So, I finally escape him and make my way to the market. Oeiras’ market is lit! Fresh veggies, fish, and all that good stuff. I’m eyeing some fresh greens for my pigs. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs past me, knocks over a whole stand of tomatoes! SPLAT! Red juice everywhere. I’m standing there, like, “Dude, what’s wrong with you?” The vendor is fuming, and I’m just trying not to laugh. I mean, it’s a total mess, but it’s kinda funny, right?

Attention parents, the most famous panda and his festival return to Oeiras in June