When an Eastern European migrant worker living in Denmark walks into the supermarket after a day's work, thinking about whether to drink Tuborg or Kronenbourg 1664 for dinner tonight, it is basically a false proposition, just like a real estate developer's second wife or third wife Wandering in front of the counter of Galeries Lafayette in Paris, Celine must be more intellectual than LV, which is the same sadness and helplessness.
Whether you're a prostitute drinking Baltika in Moscow, a drug lord drinking Grimbergen in Brussels, or a pseudo-poet drinking Somersby in industry email list London, your money goes to the Carlsberg Group. No matter what the mistress dresses up, her business and consumption patterns are still that of the mistress, and 80% of her money is handed over to the same luxury group. They have a big appetite, and they are not satisfied with selling bags. They even bought the brand of Wenjun Liquor at one time, brewed one round and returned it to the people of Sichuan.
In his youth, the old Carlsberg drove a horse-drawn carriage from Munich to take back two cans of yeast donated by Spaten winery in a hat barrel in 1845, three years before the outbreak of the Opium War. Why the South German winery Spaten gave such a generous gift to a little-known intern, a Danish small winery heir, is unknown. It may also be the same as the king of Denmark who generously accepted the potato-growing nomads in South Germany at the end of the eighteenth century. There is a certain