Want a wardrobe profile of your average non-business air traveller? T-shirt, shorts, thongs and a five day beard growth - and these are the women. The T-shirt will be wrinkled, the shorts will sport suspicious stains and the thongs will have done about 150 000km and display the imprint of the wearer's toes neatly outlined in rusted-on dirt.

Another popular look is a pair of faded Stubbies with a centimetre of buttock crease tastefully deployed above the waistline and a massive stomach protruding 50cm forward over which is draped an unbuttoned shirt beneath which is a singlet of uncertain vintage and provenance. Thongs, of course, are an essential element of this ensemble.

This effect is nicely complimented by accessories, these usually being a pair of wrap-around dark glasses and body art in which dragons and women called Doreen play a significant role.

I caught a flight to north Queensland recently and spent most of it regarding the toes of the man seated across the aisle. If you were wondering, these toes were in desperate need of professional attention and would have absorbed the energies of a chiropodist for several days.

He was in his 30s and wore the uniform of the Australian air traveller - beach shirt, crumpled shorts, sunglasses and, of course, thongs. The footwear was discarded the moment he took his seat. He then hoisted one leg over the other and displayed the sole of his foot to anyone who cared to look, a casual inspection suggesting that his ablutions that morning, at best, had been cursory.

It was an 11am flight which meant that this traveller and several of his colleagues had felt the need to have a refreshing draught or three at the bar before boarding. Nothing wrong with that, mind, and there have been occasions on which I have felt the need myself.

The result of having beer for breakfast, however, was for them to become loud and boorish, subjecting their fellows to the roars and bellows of their conversations and observations, none of which were particularly erudite.

Few of the thong wearers had shaved. Just how many had been exposed to the combined effects of water and soap within the previous 24 hours was difficult to assess but I felt it safe to make certain presumptions.

Operators such as Virgin Blue and Jetstar have transformed the Australian civil aviation industry and made it possible for people who previously could not afford to fly to do so, which is a good and a great thing.

This should not mean that it is not possible to impose some minimum dress standards so that air travellers are not obliged to spend a two-hour flight watching people idly pick at their bare feet or be threatened by quivering orbs of pale, jelly-like flesh protruding from torn T-shirts.

Is it really too draconian to insist that all males wear enclosed footwear and shirts? Why don't we all wear our jimmy-jams on the plane? It would, after all, allow us to sleep in that little bit longer. Come the time to catch our flight, we could just climb out of bed, have a nice big stretch and a scratch, slip on the dressing gown and go straight to the airport.

Those passengers who preferred a more informal look could, of course, be excused the dressing gown. This is, after all, Australia, that great egalitarian paradise in which you can wear what you want where you want.

There will be those who will denounce me as being elitist in making these remarks, people who have never spent several hours being terrorised by an unwashed male toe.

It has nothing to do with elitism or snobbery. It has a lot to do with reasonable standards as they apply, rather than allowing the lowest common denominator to rule.

I'm not saying slobs should not be allowed to fly. There are so many of them in this country now that to do so would be to ground the airline industry overnight.