There must have been a first one. If I travel back in time to Bratislava in the summer of 1950, there is not even one woman who wears one of those ultrashort shorts. At some point there must have been a first one. At some point in time a woman put on an ultrashort short, went out filled with anxiety and pride and went prancing around in Bratislava. Drawing horny, frustrated looks from men and envious, angry looks from less fortunate women.

Or perhaps it all went Darwinian style. Maybe shorts lost half a centimeter in length each summer, an evolution that is still ongoing, because 5 years ago they weren’t as short as they are now, these days they also expose the lower part of their butt cheeks, just enough to see the bouncy curvy area. Cellulitis does not seem to exist in this country. Or the movies did it and suddenly it happened en masse. Maybe at some point a movie with Brigitte Bardot or some such star hit the theaters here or was smuggled in on a videotape under communism and all of a sudden, practically the next day thousands of women slashed off a huge chunk of some old pants they had lying around. And the Slovak mass sex torture instrument was born.

And so we are here in a country where in summer you are tortured by the sight of very firm, very long, very tanned thighs in ultrashort skirts. During the summer this country’s national anthem should be this song by the Royal Teens. A song many of you have heard, because it was in the Simpsons.

If you think you can have peace in winter, you are wrong, because then they do an other devilishly arousing thing. They wear long boots, they wear panties and they put a short skirt on top. Nothing could emphasize their thighs more. It literally makes me want to die on the spot.

I have a good friend here in Bratislava who once quit wearing glasses in public so he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore.

He bumped into a lamp post.

Kill me now.

Summer is coming.

They are anonymous Slovak women.

They are legion.

Expect them.