Notorious conceptual artist Albo Zips has proposed installing a giant ‘love lock’ on Krakow’s Kładka Bridge.
Hundreds of couples have fixed engraved padlocks to the bridge since it opened in 2010, sealing the romantic gesture by tossing the keys into the river below.
Albo Sips, whose previous projects include converting the city’s 35-metre tall Piłsudski and Kościuszko Mounds into a pair of gigantic breasts, has applied for six million euros of EU funding to construct the proposed padlock and hoist it into place.
When asked if the lock would bear an inscription, Zips said: “Probably something like, ‘Presented to the City of Krakow by Jacek Majchrowski – Now you have to love me forever!'”
Capitalising on its reputation as the City of Knives, Krakow is to host an expo of the latest trends in machetes, cleavers and shanks to coincide with the start of the football season.
“No smart young skinhead about town would be seen dead without half a metre of sharpened steel shoved down his trouser leg,” said murderous fashionista Marcin ‘Kosa’ Woźniak.
“It’s a burgeoning market, and the recent lurch to the right in national politics can only be a good thing for Krakow’s hippest young designers of disembowelling implements.”
“The pearlised polymer grip is very à la mode this season, with many of the most chichi young Neo-Nazis opting for a lighter stabbing point and rakish knuckle-dusters.”
Smarting from defeat in the referendum on bidding for the Winter Olympics in Krakow, the city’s mayor is planning to host the 2022 games in his backyard.
At an impromptu press conference shouted from the roof of the town hall, Mr Majchrowski said: “Right you lot. Don’t want the Olympics? Screw you then! I’m having them at my house… and you can’t come!”
(Enough Olympics stuff, Ed)
Faced with hammer blows such as the ban on burning coal (from 2018) and the Winter Olympic bid (somehow), Krakow’s deadly miasma of airborne pollution has called for reconciliation with the people of Krakow.
“What happened folks,” wrote the smog on its Facebook page, “I thought we were bros? You get the streets choked with traffic and I get to float about inflicting pulmonary diseases on people. Where did we go wrong?”
“It’s not you, it’s me,” wrote the public health menace late last Friday night after too many glasses of wine, “I took you for granted. Please don’t make me go.”
In a jaunty follow-up post the following day, the smog appeared to have changed its position, writing: “Wait… I’m a symptom of complex socio-economic and environmental factors and you’re threatening me with some ski jumping. LOL!”
Unemployment, economic inequality and 2 others like this.
Since 1743, Cracovians smoking tobacco in public have been subject to a tax rate set at one cigarette per 200m walked.
Roving tax collectors are empowered to approach citizens on the street and collect levies due, though must always carry identification in the form of smelling like a dead dog.
Citing spiralling costs and increasingly sophisticated avoidance techniques, the city’s tax collectors are demanding an increase in the basic rate to two cigarettes.
“These e-cigarettes are killing us,” said spokesperson Brudny Marek from the pavement outside Żabka, “Our operatives can’t just demand a few puffs – we’re not animals.”
“There is also increasing evidence that citizens are avoiding inspectors by, for example, not being crazy enough to smoke a cigarette while walking around the Planty in summer.”
The basic shoe leather tax remains at parę groszy.
As wind and rain lash the region, Cracovians prepare for one of the highlights of the traditional calendar – the Festival of Sandbags.
Every year, hundreds of cheery citizens take to the streets to fill the traditional sacks with blessed ballast, then display them in time-honoured arrangements along the banks of the Vistula.
Believed to have its origins in pagan rituals intended to placate angry river spirits, the timing of the festival is linked to phases of the moon, and whenever it happens to rain a lot.
National politicians have travelled to the area to be photographed in front of bodies of water and shaking the hands of jolly sandbag wranglers.
“We can’t understand where we went wrong,” said a spokesperson for My Słowianie, Poland’s cleavage-heavy Eurovision Song Contest entry, which featured a bevy of Polish beauties pouting at the audience.
“Our YouTube video has over 40 million views, and we’re pretty sure it’s not because of the catchy tune. It’s a mystery to us why the boob magic didn’t work for us here.”
“There were so many virile young men in the audience. All so well-groomed and neatly dressed too. Look, there’s a guy over there wearing a dress… oh…”