Chris Rattue: Forget all this humility - let's celebrate a fabulous All Black victory

The silent majority has spoken.

Readers from around the globe have ordered me to be more humble about the All Blacks' victory over South Africa.

In response to Monday's column, where I attempted to celebrate the All Blacks pulverising the ol' enemy in Pretoria, an email of the Australian kind demanded in capital letters: "GET A LIFE AND SHOW SOME RESPECT." It continued: "You're only as good as your last game son."

Since Australia were beaten by the Boks, and we smashed them to smithereens, this bit didn't make a lot of sense. But I got the general message. Settle down. Defeat is at hand.

Apparently getting mildly excited about our Bledisloe and World Cup chances is also not allowed.

Another emailer, of the Kiwi kind, declared: "As John Mitchell says, a week is a long time in international rugby.

"Let's not count our chickens just yet ... humble in victory is a much better look."

Oh please. When can we stop being respectful and humble. One chicken, two chickens, three chickens, four. So there.

We should be going mad, dancing in the streets, cracking jokes about the South Africans, shouting how we're going to smash the Aussies, and declaring John Mitchell to be a genius. At least enjoy the moment. Go on.

So what if it all comes down with a thud on Saturday night. If it does, you can revert to normal mode, haul out the stocks and get on with chucking the party leftovers at poor old Mitch. He knows the score.

It's a worry when the public starts to talk like John Mitchell, especially as I understood the aim was to get Mitchell to talk like the public.

Now as it happens, our fearless All Black coach has got some unfair reviews over his public declarations.

On the one hand, he didn't say enough. And on the other hand, he said too much.

Or to put it another way - at first everyone reckoned he talked gobbledegook, so when he tried communicating in precise detail, everyone bagged him for not talking gobbledegook.

The point is, I doubt even Mitchell wants the rest of us to talk like him. He mainly talks in coach speak, a weird dialect designed not to offend his players while keeping them on their toes and disarming the opposition. He's a coach. We're the punters. We're allowed normal human emotions.

It's distressing to think that fans up and down the land are revelling in the largest victory over South Africa by trundling off to work where they announce: "A week is a long time in international rugby."

It's a long time alright, especially when you wander around talking like that.

Which brings me to the second point. When are you allowed to have fun with this rugby thing anymore?

The blimmin' World Cup has wrecked everything. Tests aren't tests anymore. They're all part of a master plan.

The only time you're allowed to be deliriously happy about rugby is when you win the World Cup. Which leaves a lot of opportunity for misery.

It's written on our stony faces that New Zealand rugby once painted a picture of a front row on an aircraft and that's why the All Blacks lost the 1999 World Cup. Celebrating a test win is as dangerous an act as painting pictures on planes. It tempts disaster.

The All Blacks have just smashed the Boks all over Loftus Versfeld, and we've got to be humble. Either that or we're part of the war effort, so there's a blackout as soon as the game ends. Lights out and don't let the enemy know you're about. And don't get your hopes up.

As if Rudolf Straeuli will find out that someone in New Zealand had a party because the Boks got crushed in Pretoria, and tell his team, which will make them really mad and lead them to suddenly decide to try to win the World Cup.

If you listen to the BBC, you'll probably find out that the mood of our nation is lifted when the All Blacks win.

Well the BBC should try living here. After the All Blacks smash the Boks, you get on the bus the next day where the driver shakes with fear and says: "We'll have to watch the Springboks at the World Cup now. They'll be real mad and now they know all their own weaknesses."

Rugby causes the mood of the nation to race between Extreme Caution and Extreme Despair. Happy doesn't come into it. Not unless we win the World Cup.

And even if we do, it will be part of a 300-year master plan to win more World Cups than anyone else. So here's a warning, just in case we emerge triumphant in November. Tread carefully and keep a lid on the celebrations. You'll only risk being let down at the next World Cup.