There is no doubt about it. There is definitely going to be war. On the one side you have a towering economic and political giant, a law unto itself, and in the other you have the tiny nervous newcomers.

We watch nervously, praying for peace but we know in our heart of hearts that there is definitely going to be war. But in this war it won't be blood that is spilt, it will be cola.

Oh yes, according to the world's press Muslims have already started waging war with America by launching alternatives to Coca Cola. It is like swapping one black liquid for another.

First there was French-produced Mecca Cola and now there is Qibla cola produced by a woman in Derby. Now don't get me wrong. I am against American imperialism as much as the next person. I mean, there are only so many Tom Hanks movies a person can take, but let's be sensible here. The colas are being touted as an alternative to American greed and ten per cent of proceeds will go to support Palestinian orphans.

And why is it that those who call for the denouncement of American materialism are the ones wearing the Tommy Hilfiger caps or Calvin Klein hijabs?

Call me cynical but I find this a bit hard to stomach. We the general public are stupid but even we can spot another great marketing ploy when we see one.

Should we play pop over what is essentially a glass of pop?

On special occasions like Eid I start guzzling the black stuff from breakfast until bedtime leaving me in a state of perpetual hyperactivity.

In Pakistan it is a different story. There the Coke rival Pepsi is favoured and as you leave Karachi airport a huge sign emblazoned across the main road says: 'Welcome to Pakistan - SPONSORED BY PEPSI' which leaves you baffled and thinking the whole country is sponsored by a soft drink. Nor did I realise there was such deadly rivalry between the two drinks.

Once at a hotel in Murree I made the near-fatal error of asking for Coca Cola. They looked at me in horror as if I had just ordered Saddam Hussain's favourite tipple (whisky on the rocks) and three Kalashnikovs pointed in my face, until my uncle explained I was a gormless Brit and didn't know about social etiquettes.

In the end I was too terrified to drink anything other than patriotic Pakola, a green-coloured soft drink and migraine-inducing orangeade called Mirinda.

Apart from my brothers, there are other people who are addicted to this drink. There are websites in the drink's honour and which also give you handy tips such as how to clean your latrine by pouring it down the toilet and flushing after half an hour.

But at the end of the day Coke does embody the height of western frivolity.

And any drink which can inspire a number one hit song with the lyrics: 'First time, first Coke, what feeling is this?' must have something going for it..