Column | Delicious clear Heineken

Did you also laugh so much at the poop riot in the hop hop world of ballet? Or did you miss that news? Not so long ago a German choreographer received a nasty criticism from a critic and at the next premiere he visited the critic during the intermission and smeared her with the still warm droppings of his dachshund. I especially find that dachshund funny. So no pit bull, doberman or false shepherd, no, a petty dachshund. Our own Nederlands Dans Theater (NDT) has since broken ties with this dirty choreographer. They do his last dances for a few more months and then it’s done.

The question now is: is that so? Will the NDT indeed no longer perform a jump from this shit mister or will he still secretly deliver some work under a different name? Just because his colleagues think it’s sad for him otherwise. And for his dachshund of course.

I’m coming here because I’m still softly shuddering from the recent Heineken story. How wrong can you be in a war? You announce with a lot of publicity bombardment that you are withdrawing from bloodthirsty Russia, which via a crazy dictator is ruthlessly raging at the terrified neighbors and later it turns out that you continued to act secretly. Not by accident, but deliberately. Without any moral doubt, Heineken launched 61 brand new products onto the Russian market. While they saw the Ukrainians groaning and dying every day. Or does no one at Heineken have television? Don’t they read newspapers? And are they not on the internet either? And how are they feeling? Or do they see the drink as a weapon? Those Russians like to drink a lot, so you can’t feed them starnacal enough. Actually, we should be grateful to Heineken. They are fighting on our side.

Dolf van den Brink, the CEO of Heineken, beamed proudly last week when he was allowed to honk a profit of billions of euros into the world. But I’m afraid he’ll have to murmur a few billion less next year. If he hasn’t been kicked out by the Supervisory Board by now. Although? Of course the rc knew everything. Everyone knew. In short: just criminals! Gags that you should get out of the way. We don’t want that beer in the fridge for the time being. In solidarity with Zelensky and his desperately fighting people. Only Thierry still drinks a delicious clear beer. He also likes what his hero Putin does.

Will Dolf van den Brink, like Frans van Houten, the ex-top man of the almost bankrupt Philips, claim a generous bonus? And will Dolf receive euros or rubles? Maybe liters.

But maybe I’m wrong and Van Houten will divide the five hundred thousand euros among the six thousand recently dismissed employees. Then I immediately take back my words.

Take back or soften words. The greedy heirs of Roald Dahl wanted to do that to the great writer whose body bag they had been living on for years. And the wrong publisher was happy to cooperate with this at first. Perhaps the Russian editions will be cleaned up anyway. They have quite a few souls there.

Yesterday I immediately went to my notary to make sure that my words will not be tampered with after my death. By no one. A fat niece remains a fat niece. And I’m not talking about my niece, but about a neighbor. Or should I make it: a corpulent gentleman who likes to go to ballet with his mother?

In short: someone who takes his bonus from the company’s cash while that cash is almost empty due to his mismanagement, is just a dirty grab. And someone who continues to act cheerfully in a war situation is simply a collaborator. You can also call him a Sywert. And everyone stays away from those words. Otherwise my collected work, which will be published next year, will be an frighteningly thin book of no more than five pages. The rest was then deleted by woke wawelers. What will my collected work be called? Clear language! Just smear shit, but with words!