KEY POINTS:
Went to a gig the other night and in front of the stage it was chaotic and brutal. Yet, funnily enough, it was also a place of happy and joyous violence. A mate got smacked in the nose by some sweaty guy's flailing arm. His nose bled but there was no complaining. This is Napalm Death, mate - a pioneering British metal band fronted by an oafish and cheeky bloke called Barney - and after a quick trip to the Kings Arms blood bin he was back into it.
I got smacked in the nose too. No blood, but let's just say my eyes watered a little - hey, I wasn't crying - and I'm glad I had my steel caps on.
Just as blood is a sign of respect on the sporting field, so it is at a death metal gig. However, a time when blood is not a good look is when it seeps on to urban streets like it has in the past two weekends.
I have a solution to break this cycle of street violence among young people. Sorry to be so dramatic, but shooting people in the face and stabbing them is not a very cool form of entertainment. It hurts more than a smack in the nose.
No, I'm not suggesting compulsory military training or raising the drinking age. Nor am I here to be patronising.
I have two simple words: heavy metal. Or, for those who want to be cool, one word: metal.
Forget about the staunch sashaying pimp roll that that hip-hop music inspires in some young people. Who wants to be shot multiple times like 50 Cent? It might make you tough on the outside, you know, with scar tissue and all, but it doesn't do much for your future prospects (see review of his latest album on page 24).
As Napalm Death reveal, metal, in all its many and extreme forms, allows you to vent by becoming an unrestrained animal, throwing yourself at other people and flexing your muscles. At one of these gigs, as long as you're not too stupid, pretty much anything goes.
And even if you don't want to mix it up at the front you can stand there and soak up the pummelling power of the music - now that's what I call bullet-proof.
The mate who got smacked in the nose has a theory about street thugs. Not only does he think Generation Y are mostly unprepared to work for a crust, he also reckons a generation of bullies has been created. And some of these bullies are carrying out vigilante-type attacks on rich kids because they resent what they've got.
However, beating up people, and worst of all, stabbing and shooting people is not cool. Get a life. Go to the movies, watch the World Cup, or better still, head along to the next metal gig and then we'll see who's tough, punk.
Now, moving on to something more mindless, have you ever wondered why the word "cool" remains at the top of the list of words for colloquial appreciation and praise? It has a timelessness about it - from Miles Davis' Birth of the Cool in the 50s, to John Travolta in Grease in the 70s, to its everyday use today. Cool is simply a cool word.
Choice was up there for a while, (and you can still get away with it if you have a Lynn of Tawa twang to your voice). Excellent, said with hand-wringing enthusiasm is passable. Chur, or cher, works if you're, well, cool. But pa-lease, don't use funky. As for groovy - don't even go there.
Jerry Collins is cool. He'll be cooler if the All Blacks win the World Cup. But a question I've been pondering is: Why have the All Blacks got props playing locks, hookers playing loose forwards, loosies playing lock, and a cracking centre playing on the wing, when I'm sure the world's other top teams don't mix it up like a lolly scramble.
All I can say is, Ma'a Nonu is playing well and Conrad Smith might be an intelligent lawyer, but scoring two tries against Portugal is far from being back on track.
I'm sure all my questions will be answered in the quarter finals.
