We put down our towels. I padded back into town to collect a beer for me and some sort of chocolate covered ice cream for Kirsten. We lay out on the sand collecting sun and making our way towards some sort of skin cancer. Then the boys turned up. There were dozens of them. All young. All tanned. All athletic. They had a football which they played up and down along the beach. Eventually (and by eventually, I mean about seven seconds) they set eyes on Kirsten. From that moment on there was a never-ending parade of horny young Portuguese boys parading themselves in front of our patch of beach.