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About Kecskemet

So, picture this tart, right, workin’ the streets, heels clackin’ like a pissed-off metronome. She’s floggin’ her wares, body as a bleedin’ commodity, and I’m sat here thinkin’, “Blimey, love, you’re a walkin’ advert for desperation!” Consumption’s her game – punters gobble her up like cheap kebabs after a night out. Supply, demand, all that bollocks. She’s a business, ain’t she? A one-woman shag factory. *Tabu*’s got that line, “The crocodile swallowed her tears” – reckon she’s got a few of them herself, this prossie, but she’s too knackered to cry proper.

Prostitutes Fonyód

So, I finally make it to the beach, and it’s packed. Families everywhere, sunbathers, and a bunch of teenagers blasting music. I plop down on the sand, ready to soak it all in. But then, I hear this loud argument behind me. Turns out, it’s two guys fighting over a beach ball. Like, really? A beach ball? I’m just sitting there, shaking my head. “Get a grip, fellas!”

Cyclone Boris also hit Lake Balaton: the Hungarian sea is shifted