Diamond in the rough

Jimmy jewel: While the colour may put
some off, it's worth persevering

Today afforded me the delightful opportunity to drive to Brentwood in Essex, a pleasure no man should pass up should he get the chance. 

Brentwood, if you've never been, is a fairly run-of-the-mill market town surrounded on all sides by greying scrubland, retail parks, industrial estates, brash and showy houses with drives and car custom part shops. It's also home to several second-hand car dealerships, which was what gave me occasion to visit.

The poor place is sandwiched between several of the country's worst roads, including the M25, the A12 and the near-legendary A13, trunk road to the sea. Probably didn't stand a chance really.

But Brentwood brought a little chink of joy into the heart today, for it would seem to have provided a transport solution for someone more in need of it than most in the form of a jeans blue coloured Nissan Almera.

I've heard they're quite good. I know nothing about cars, but I went along to provide 'bloke' cover and to kick some tyres. I know car dealers love that.

And it turns out this is just the thing, so a successful mission then. None of this, of course, is remotely relevant to today's beer - a 'Commonweath Indies Pale Ale' as the sleevenotes would have you believe. About the closest I can get is that the car is being bought from a diamond geezer and the beer's called Kohinoor.

So that'll do then.

Beer: Windsor & Eton Kohinoor
Strength: A slightly disappointing 5%. Expected better.
Colour: Deep Lucozade or old man's wee - you decide.
Smell: Gentle notes of floral spiciness. Sorry, bit of a cold today so can't smell
Tasting notes: Having had an initial sip, I was about to accuse this of being pretty characterless. In fact, the keyboard was mere seconds away from being tapped when the flavour seemed to come back from the dead. It's not really strong enough to be a genuine IPA, which is I expect why it has a slightly silly name, but you get the lite version of it from the off. But then it all goes away really quickly, like it's taken one look at your tastebuds and scarpered. You're convinced it's properly legged it when it returns, delivers a Parthian shot of hoppy tang, then promptly disappears again. You could almost call it a miscreant.
Gut reaction: Light and unassuming, it's unlikely to cause any real trouble.
Session factor: Pretty high, although the slight sense of disappointment might put you off further investigation.
Arbitrary score: 127