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About Amadora

So, findin’ a prossie—where d’ya even start? Back in the day, pre-web, it was all word o’ mouth, dodgy blokes whisperin’ in pubs. Now? Mate, it’s apps, dark web, X posts—modern warfare, innit! We shall never surrender to the grind of searchin’. Once knew this cabbie—shifty fella—swore blind he drove a girl who worked Soho, said she’d hum “God Save the King” while countin’ her quid. True story! Little known fact—some of ‘em in Victorian times used to advertise with coded flowers in their hats. Carnations meant “I’m game”—wild, eh?

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, torrential downpour. I’m soaked in seconds. I duck into a shop on Rua de São Pedro, and it’s packed. Everyone’s crammed in there, and I’m just standing there, dripping wet, feeling like a drowned rat. I can’t help but laugh. Like, what else can you do, right?

Calling in the Seabirds