Attention, People of Australia

I've been Down Under to visit once. Love you guys. Love your big island of a country. Love your food and drink and 'roos and even that little Bindi Irwin.
But, for the love of God, you've got to do something about those unitards.
You know what I mean. You have to know. You do love to watch the Olympics, and every time you tune them in on the satellite, you've got to see your national prides and joys parading around out there in what looks like an official girl's gym-class uniform, circa 1973 America.
Crikey!
It's bright yellow and green, sleeveless, cut off at the knees and incredibly form fitting. Not that I'm opposed to form-fitting, especially when it comes to bodies honed to Olympic-athlete perfection.
But c'mon. You've got them on your women's basketball team. Your Lauren Jackson, for pete's sake — our Lauren Jackson, come to think of it — has to go from hip hop, WNBA cool-and-loose to Down Under buttoned-up-tight in one fell swoop.
Surely there's a good reason for this apparently irreversible fashion coma. A long-standing sponsorship deal with makers of severe girdles?
What's worse, the uni seems to be spreading all the way across your Olympic roster. I saw men — I think they were men — wearing them in track cycling the other day. And runners. And jumpers. And throwers.
The only people who seem to be escaping the fashion atrocity are your swimmers, who, like everyone else, are wearing those godawful full-body suits made of black electrical tape. I point this out only because it's the one piece of athletic attire that's actually worse than the Aussie standard-issue unitard.
So, there it is. I didn't want to say anything, not wanting to offend. But would you tell your best friend from another continent if he had, say, a large chunk of toilet paper stuck to his shoe?