COMMUNISM versus Capitalism, Ali v Frazier, Saints against Pompey - mere skirmishes between minnows.

The real global clash of the last 100 years has not been between political ideologies or great sporting rivalries but rather between the makers of two fizzy drinks.

It seems even fans who want to watch the quintessentially genteel game of cricket are not immune from the brand wars which have swept round the globe.

Spectators at the five ICC Champions Trophy events being staged at Hampshire's Rose Bowl during September are being warned they will be stopped from taking drinks and snacks into the stadium by so-called "picnic police" - unless they are owned by Pepsi or Walkers.

The move is part of a bid to ensure maximum commercial gain for match sponsors Pepsi - which also owns Walkers Crisps.

The one-day matches include England verses Sri Lanka on September 17 and a semi-final on September 22. They will be watched by millions worldwide on Sky TV.

And Pepsi does not want to see anyone on TV tucking into rival brands. Fans are even being given lists of acceptable snacks.

Now I must confess to not being able to pass the Pepsi challenge - or to be able to taste the difference between "The Real Thing" and its blue rival.

But not willing to be told by anyone what I could eat or drink when watching a sporting event, I decided to don a suitably subversive T-shirt during Saturday's clash between Kenya and India, so setting match organisers a challenge to rival anything that Pepsi could throw at me.

The first challenge was to get past the security men at the gates of the Rose Bowl - clutching a bag containing a giant economy sized bottle of Coca Cola and two bags of "The Real McCoy" crisps - (cheese and onion and streaky bacon flavour, if you are interested).

No problem. I sailed through the checks with security staff giving the contents of my bag no more than a cursory glance.

Next though, the real challenge.

Ducking down behind an advertising hoarding and feeling absurdly like Clark Kent changing into Superman, I stripped off my shirt to reveal underneath - "Ta-daa" - a T-shirt bearing the famous "Coca-Cola - The Real Thing" emblem (trade-marked naturally).

I turned to face the Indian and Kenyan fans - and magnificently, they started cheering. It was the first time in my life I had been the subject of such adoration.

Really, it quite went to my head. I began bouncing up and down behind a huge "Pepsi" hoarding - taking swigs from my giant bottle of Coca Cola.

More cheering and applause. One old fan shouted "good on you man - that'll show them." Revolutions can't be that easy I thought.

Surely the goon squad would turn up soon and escort me from the premises. But nobody came - in spite of my best efforts to make myself conspicuous.

After two hours, my "No Label" protest came to an end and I walked out of the ground. It was time, I thought, to get myself a really refreshing drink.

I drove into the nearest service station and bought myself a nice, cool bottle of milk.