Chris Hewett: All Blacks must realise biff part of the game

A terrific team, New Zealand. Too terrific by half for the Lions, that's for sure.

In the wet in Christchurch, they made fewer mistakes than St Francis of Assisi. In the dry in Wellington, they made no mistakes at all.

Well, maybe one. It is just about arguable that Chris Jack and Keven Mealamu got their knickers in a twist in defence early on - either that, or they did not see the substantial frame of Gareth Thomas moving in their direction, in which case they should buy themselves a guide-dog apiece and spend the rest of their rugby careers as citing commissioners.

All things considered, though, the All Blacks were error-free. Fantastic. Good on 'em.

Under the circumstances, it is not for a mere Englishman to tell Graham Henry anything about anything. He's it, we're ... well, you get the drift.

But if one may be so bold, old bean, a piece of advice would not go amiss.

For God's sake, Graham, stop bleating about the rough stuff. What happened in Wellington wasn't that rough anyway - a bit of a stomp, a few punches, some pushing and shoving. There are more fireworks in the average Kirov Ballet rehearsal (where star performers really do get dropped from a great height).

Henry's after-match fume appeared to be directed towards Julian White, the foursquare English tight-head prop famously described by one of the travelling press pack as "both Kray twins in the same head".

Now, there was nothing of the Kray in White during the first test, which he played on a pacifist ticket. Shamed into putting himself about at the Cake Tin - apparently, Wellingtonians loathe that name for their wonderful stadium, so we'll keep using it as a matter of principle - he applied his boot to Byron Kelleher's elbow as the halfback scrambled around at the bottom of a ruck and then tucked into Tony Woodcock with a few right digs when the boy from North Harbour took umbrage.

A couple of points here. Kelleher shouldn't have been where he was - not just at the ruck under discussion, but in any of the ruck situations that drew him like a magnet into illicit ball-tampering activity.

The refereeing of Andrew Cole in this phase of Saturday's test was bad enough to be beneath contempt - the Blacks killed so much ball they might have been charged with genocide - and on the basis that the officials were taking an evening off, White decided to have an evening on.

Fair enough, don't you think? What would Meads have done? Or Shelford, or Cowboy Shaw, or dear old Richard Loe?

And when Woodcock decided to get involved, as was his solemn right and duty, White did what comes naturally to most rugby players of his particular stamp, if you'll pardon the expression. And that was all right too. What do we want from a test match?

Tantric sex?

This is not an exercise in defending the Lions. Far from it. They were minced, mashed and marmalised by an exceptionally good New Zealand team.

Look at the scoreboard, as they say. This is about offering just one small smidgen of guidance to the victors, because these All Blacks will not fulfil their destiny by winning the World Cup in 2007 if they expect everyone else to sit back and watch them strut their stuff.

At some point during that tournament in France, there will be a fight - one long 80-minute scrap in which the Blacks will have to show a hard edge of their own.

They need to stop whining about the odd right hook and accept that rugby and ballroom dancing are two very different pursuits.

* Chris Hewett is a rugby writer for the Independent in London.