A night in front of the gogglebox and the footie's on. Engerland back in Germany for the first time since *that* night in Munich 2001. I'm expecting the game to be as friendly as a ticker expecting scoops but getting Greene King. But never mind the dummkopfs; let our multi-millionaires close down Klose and I'll get on with settling another score. I'll pick a German beer and an English beer at random out of my cellar and drink one in each half. Back of the net or straight down the sink?



Let's kick off with the German entry - Jever Dark. I've been keen on 'normal' Jever for years and so was keen to try the dark side when I saw this bottle in Beers of Europe. Well, the beer made more of an impression in the first ten minutes than the German team did. Bready malts, damp stables, a gentle carbonation delivers a washy caramel that's tempered by a surprisingly slight sweetflower finish. Not had too many Schwarzbiers so didn't really know what to expect. It feels a little messy, no clear direction on the palate, though not as bad as the German defence as the keeper goes flapping and Upson's leg grows another twelve inches to stick the ball into the old onion bag.

1-0.

The Dark does start to grow on me. So do fungal diseases, so not necessarily a good thing. That latent sweetness starts to fade and a sour lick lingers in the still-thin body. Not bad and certainly session-able.

Half-time so it's time for a five-minute queue for a python-siphon and another queue for a bratwurst & turnip pie. Except I'm not actually at the game.... so it's back off to the cellar. And some half-time musings:

- do the Germans look at the flash advertising boards and wonder what a Pukka Pie is?
- why do footballers need Recaro seats in the dugout?
- Scott Carson: why?

Second half is underway; two changes for England, three for Germany and one for me. The curiously efficient German makes way for a feisty near-Mancunian, Robinson's Ginger Tom. This could be a great strike partnership, the muscular Old Tom paired with the biting Fentiman's Ginger Ale. From the kick-off, there's a great aroma spilling around the kitchen - not the Terry Butcheresque brutality of Marble Ginger but a level of Bobby Moore-like pace and control. And there's plenty going on around the palate - and then on the pitch. Bent's just had an open net and fallen over at the surprising sight of it. Then Terry and Carson seemed to be pulled together by magnets in their shorts, so allowing Helmes to perform that typical shabby German football trick of scoring a goal just after we should have had one.

1-1.

If only we had the depth of Ginger Tom. That spice starts as subtle as a Wright-Philips shot shaving the post. Those alcohol-strewn fruits of Old are still knocking around, ginger washing around them. Stealthy carbonation keeps whipping that firm malty base round your gums, warm spice lingering until... those lush fruits curl in again like Downing's finest as Captain Courageous inserts the ball firmly beyond the last German.

2-1.

This is a seriously good beer. It's as impressive as Chocolate Tom was disappointing. The Old Tom in the mix never feels neutered, if anything the gingerness lifts those plump autumnal flavours. Two things I know for sure; I will be buying more of this if I can find it in Sainsburys and this has got to be made available on cask. I'd even go to Stockport for it, as no-one by now will remember 1989 and the fancy-dress clown who caused a near-riot in McDonalds by promising all the kids free Happy Meals if they went up to the counter and shouted "I HAVE VD!!"

No need for extra time. The results are clear enough - the Germans were one-dimensional whereas the English had that touch of class. Ginger Tom takes the tie for Engerland. Though I fear they may have a stiffer test if they ever get drawn against Mikkel's Danish all-stars...