SHE tilts her head back as the vodka runs down the dwarf's bare genitals and straight into her mouth.

At only three feet, and dressed as a cheerleader, the dwarf towers over the girl from where he stands on the bar.

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Her friends egg her on, but it's obvious she doesn't need any encouragement - guzzling the drink like a chocolate milkshake.

"Complete and utter carnage," the club rep promises as he rewinds the video to show me again. "And that's only the start of it love."

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Welcome to the hedonistic stomping ground of Magaluf, where your teenagers are living out your worst nightmare on their summer holiday.

The testosterone and drink-fuelled mayhem has become an annual Mecca for Irish youngsters - hitting the headlines recently when the activities of one girl performing oral sex on 24 men to win a cocktail went viral online.

But - as the Sunday Independent discovered - this only scratches the surface of the hell-raising antics that young people are getting up to in Magaluf.

Here, girls perform lewd sex acts in return for alcohol on a nightly basis.

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The X-rated clip was shown to me by a tout trying to sell an official pub crawl, and is akin to what you'd find on porn websites.

"We also have a game called 'erection perfection'," the tout adds as he notices me scanning the street for other options. There are dozens of other reps to compete with, and upping the depravity pulls the crowd.

"We get four girls to line up and lapdance on top of four boys. If the girls aren't able to make them erect, then they have to perform oral sex," he laughs.

All this is done in return for another free drink.

But with €2 shots and cocktails these kids are hardly stuck for spare spending money on their holiday.

So what is it?

As we find out later, it's the pat on the back from the gang, the camaraderie, the screams of delight, that spur them on.

Reps circle the teens pouring vodka straight from the bottle down their necks.

When girls become shy or refuse, then a kiss on the lips from their attractive chaperones leave them giggling before chugging the spirits back.

We are in a bar on the infamous mile-long strip called 'Punta Ballena' -which pulsates with the bright lights of hundreds of pubs, strip clubs, kebab shops and even an aptly named tattoo parlour called 'Sorry Mom'.

The slope descends into a drug-fuelled pack at the end of the road as pairs drift off to the beach to have al fresco sex or avail of local brothels.

Unprotected or "bare back" sex costs €70 and blow jobs are €20, but we're told "you can bargain the girls down".

Young Irish boys are enticed inside lapdancing clubs by the lingerie-clad women with the promise of "tits, m**ge and ass in your face".

The girls look young but haggard, the soothing lull of drugs simmering behind their half-shut eyes.

Violence is commonplace and full blown fist fights between groups of up to 20 men and women regularly break out.

We witness a girl smash another girls head off a bus stop in a fight over her straying boyfriend.

While at the top of the hill, we come across a young man lying unconscious on the ground.

He is face down in a mushy mound of his own blood and tissue.

Drunken passersby prod him like an injured animal to see if he is alive.

Some mother's son? Maybe. But here it's just another drunken injury.

It begins to look serious and a group wearing luminous tops approaches him.

At first it appears to be the emergency services. But the help is actually drunken party goers wearing a uniform of yellow tops from their pub crawl.

Someone nearby explains he had been sitting on a step outside a chip shop minding his own business when strangers came from behind and knocked him out cold on the pavement.

Ten minutes later paramedics appear and lift him into an ambulance.

They barely blink at the sight. They've seen it all before.

Meanwhile, in a bar up the road a pretty blonde waitress called Gayle wears a sign around her neck that promises "body shots for €10".

In this hangout, the young women have to hop up on the bar and take their tops off to let men drink shots from between their breasts.

I watch as several sweaty lads throw down the cash. It's the end of a drunken night of beer and kebabs but the girl obediently lays herself out flat as they run their tongues from low in her crotch in a trail to her chest.

Gayle tells me she has just moved from a sex club in Palma where members of the crowd are called up to have sex on stage with each other."I've seen people penetrated with every household item you can imagine. Half the time they don't use condoms but when they do the girls put a tie on the end of the used rubber and fling them into the crowd."

If there was ever a place that epitomised the idea that 'sex sells', this is it.

In the local newsagents - next to a sweet stand of penis-shaped lollipops - a generic version of Viagra is sold for €6.50 a pill.

Diamond-like jewels to decorate genitalia are popular amongst the girls, while the lads opt for packets of protection with a variety of messages written on them, from "my first condom" to another which displays a picture of Darth Vader and reads, 'Luuuuke I will not be your father'.

I ask Gayle where I can get some good drugs. "Oh that's easy - ask any of the reps," she tells me. "They'll sort you out or at least point you to the next person who will."

The next day, inside a local doctor's clinic when asked about the fallout from the sybaritic antics, a receptionist flashes me her best smile: "Oh we see nothing here but sore throats and ear infections."

Behind her the reception is lined with groggy, zombie-eyed teenagers bent over with their heads buried in between their knees.

The ambulance drivers, police and bar owners all sing from the same hymn sheet.

With a multi-million euro tourism industry at stake each year, the local motto, What happens in Magaluf, stays in Magaluf" isn't just the mantra of the teenagers who visit it.

Back in a local club that night another pumped-up rep stands on the bar and booms into a microphone: "Right! Some of you are going to go home with STDS tomorrow, some of you are going to get f**ked up the a**e on the beach".

The crowd whoops and punches the air beneath him before downing from trays of shots as they are passed around.

And the party train rolls on - camera phones in tow.

Perhaps future stars of the internet in the making, and coming to a screen near you.

Sunday Independent