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Acid Tongue 872 - Up The Crack

Author: Alexis Drevikovsky
Thursday, 16 August 2007
Cleavage gets the elegant French décolletage when all it is is tacky and cheap; so I was going to christen the bumcrack décolletage de derrière. But I thought again. Forget the fancy French. The humble, honest bumcrack isn’t pretentious enough to warrant it.

This winter the microdress, with its multitude of fashion crimes, has made the bum crack obsolete. We have endured seasons of hipster jeans and flesh on show. Our generation will suffer the effects of permanently chilled kidneys in a way that no other generation has or will.

But it is only now that the bum crack is concealed beneath skimpy layers of nylon that we can truly value it. The truth is that we lived in privileged times, the privilege being that anyone can flash their bum. We were on the brink of a revolution, where we loved our bodies and accepted that beneath the masquerade of fashion, we are all the same.

It’s a longstanding tradition to make derisive plumber’s-crack comments. As far away as Mexico plumbers are Larry Lowpantses. But you can’t tell me, at some stage in your life, a plumber hasn’t done you great service. The plumber did that service by crouching where you were too precious to crouch, by getting down and dirty in your filth - and in doing so, exposing a teensy weensy bit of bum. And you, standing there decoratively, had the nerve to look on and snigger. Shame on you.

I’ve never dabbled in plumbing but the principle remains the same: being proactive leads to flashing. I was recently clambering oh-so-elegantly out of my grandma’s car when she giggled. “I have seen your bum!” she snorted. All my loved ones have at some stage, as has anyone who has sat behind me on a train, watched me tie up a shoelace, been in the same outdoor café with those minimalist chairs - in fact, anyone who has ever seen me sit down or stand up. And I make no apologies.

If anything, it shows that I am comfortable with myself. I always feel an affinity with anyone who lets their bum hang out a bit. A mate once described his friend as “one of those people with an unfortunately long crack” and I warmed to her straight away. There was an instant intimacy between us, a frank friendliness that said, yeah, my pants fell down a bit and you can see my bum but meh, it’s anatomical, sister. There are more important things to worry about, like conserving water and educating Paris Hilton.

The answer lies in re-education. Bumcracks aren’t skanky or sophisticated or raunchy, they just are. Learn to love your bum, people, crack and all. Chuck out your microdresses and dust off your hipsters, before we lose touch with what makes us all human.

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