The Netto was both great and terrible depending on the location. On the night I arrived in Denmark I remember seeing that distinctive sign and wondering what it was for.
Of the three grocery stores that were within a two minute walk of my house it was probably my least favourite, but it was also the farthest. They had a good deal on the candy that I liked.
I had friends who lived by a smaller Netto that we liked to call the ghetto Netto—so clever. And then there were those nights when the Netto parking lot served as a makeshift hangout.