A new crusade

I have decided that it is time for a new crusade. Not like the old ones where knights charged across Europe to smite enemies and find the Holy Grail. This is one of the new age - and the object of my ire is (dramatic pause) HIPSTERS. Yes, that's right folks, I am officially done with this trouser style. I rank them below some of the worst fashion faux pas of the modern age - including bubble skirts, bubble gum jeans, tube skirts and puffy pirate shirts (what can I say, I was a child of the eighties). In the last 3 years I have seen more butt cleavage than any person should have to see in their lifetime and I am DONE. Last night at the rugby union at a particularly exciting moment, most people in the crowd leapt to their feet. The girl in front of us was one of them and holy jesus, I could have emptied all of the spare change from my purse, plus a packet of butter menthols and thrown in a yo yo in the space that"opened up" before me when her pants headed south. Am officially proud to say I have turned into my nanna and had to fight every urge in my body to lean forward, pull up her duds and tell her that it was not a good look befitting a young lady. Perk! Hipsters, in all shape and forms, should be banned if there is even a remote chance that people around you are going to get a good look at your g-bangers in a public place. If you are not allowed to wear thongs, tracksuit pants or flannel shirts into a bar, why is it suddenly ok for most of your arse to be out on display every time you lift your arms above chest level or sit down??? Also, don't tell me that it is comfortable - the number of times I have watched girls walking along and having to hitch at their duds every five steps has happened so often now that I think it is normal. I was wondering out loud the other day to my husband if anyone had yet done a study into the increase of skin cancer of the butt crack as not too many people seem to be remembering to "slip, slop, slap" the old sunscreen down there. I reckon now if the time to get into specialising in treating it - in 10 years it could be big business.
Anyway, I have made my declaration, so now I will take my first step by lying on my lounge and drinking wine. The best possible attack. Also, as a quick postscript, if the blokes out there could also give the trousers a hitch so I don't have to check if mum ironed your boxer shorts, that would be just grand. Thanks.