I don’t want to be labelled a knocker.
But I want to deal with one or two big issues that have been thrust in our faces lately. Yes, I’m talking about the wild, wanton display of breasts during the scintillating win by the Wellington Phoenix over the Perth Glory in that nail-biting goal shootout in the A-League at the Cake Tin.  
Just about every time one of our players did something right, there seemed to be whole lines of women in the stands who showed their bosoms and danced them from side to side in primitive displays of wild joy. I’m sure they caused coronaries in many bars and living rooms.
Is this a good look for Wellington? Have we lost all sense of morality? And, most important of all, will it put the players off their game?
I know sometimes young people get a bit carried away at these events and do things they might later regret, but some of these women were more than spring chickens.  They knew what they were doing. Oh, yes. And were determined to do it anyway.  But to give them credit, the Wellington women who removed their tops and brazenly flashed their bosoms all had bras or bikini tops on.
So while their displays were titillating and provocative, they weren’t doing anything illegal.  And they didn’t look gross, like the dirty old Jafas do with their “Boobs on Bikes” up in Banks-town.
I guess it’s a new development in Wellington crowd behaviour. It somehow cuts across the general modesty of New Zealand culture. It may even be a world-first.  
These Phoenix female football fans are something else again. They all had that “damn you I’ll do what I want” look in their eyes, as if they’d spent all day watching Thelma and Louise and devouring articles about Amy Winehouse. They were escaping from something. Either that or they were all Shock Troops from La Leche League on a special mission to promote breastfeeding in public.
At this time of year, we’re used to seeing those dull soccer crowds in England, all clad in black duffel coats and chewing on porky scratchings, staring at snow-covered pitches and doing those nightmarish mass dirges mocking the visitors. The pictures coming out of dear old Wellington must be making international eyes pop out.  
And it’s not just our womenfolk. Hundreds of otherwise demure males pulled off their sweaty T-shirts and twirled them over their heads like helicopter blades and constantly looked as if they were going to invade the pitch if the referee made the smallest slip-up.
Where will it all end? I can see the day coming when a notice will be flashed on people’s TV screens, saying: “Warning. The following programme contains football scenes involving Wellingtonians at Westpac Stadium. Viewer discretion is advised.”
This Sunday the Phoenix front the Newcastle Jets, again at the Cake Tin. Brace yourself: the terraces are going to be stacked.