The story of a fried chicken is shaking the boundaries of law and patriotism, and the spark flew when it was discovered that a company called Frisby España SL registered the name, typography, and chicken mascot of the chain to operate in the peninsula. The European Union Intellectual Property Office (EUIPO) opened a cancellation process against the original registration of Frisby S.A. BIC for lack of effective use in Europe, giving it barely two months to prove commercial activity. The discovery prompted the digital campaign #NosDamosAPollo: competitors, officials, and occasional tweeters decorated the web with crispy wing emojis and patriotic proclamations. The menu of the day went from BBQ sauce to transatlantic indignation.

Under the strict scrutiny of the EU, a trademark must be used within five years of its registration, or otherwise it expires. This rule, reasonable to prevent hoarding, becomes a double-edged sword when a third party takes advantage of inaction to colonize someone else's sign. Frisby España claims that the Colombian registration blocked free competition because they never opened a location in Madrid. However, the "non-use" clause does not per se authorize appropriating a name notoriously linked to another origin, especially when copying the logo and even the stylized winking chicken. The line between business acumen and parasitism is quite thin.

The crux, therefore, is not limited only to a technicality of industrial property but to the broader concept of unfair competition. Article 10 bis of the Paris Convention requires sanctions for any act that creates confusion regarding the establishment or that involves exploitation of another's prestige. The jurisprudence of the Supreme Court insists that reputation can cross oceans, simply requiring that the average consumer link the sign with its original owner. Physical presence is not needed to invoke notoriety; for example, Coca-Cola won lawsuits in the Soviet Union before selling the first bottle. Frisby Colombia's claim, therefore, is not an exotic whim but has foundations in established doctrine.

While lawyers review precedents, the public debate reveals deeper tensions. Colombia spends millions on "country brand" campaigns but invests little in supporting its companies in extraterritorial litigation. The Government is still weighing whether to intervene diplomatically. The Ministry of Commerce cites the Association Agreement with the EU that includes a chapter on geographical indications and well-known trademarks but does not offer a procedural lifeline. When coffee and flowers have navigated similar battles, each company has sailed alone. In the absence of institutional support, digital activism becomes the main ingredient of the kitchen, and while it may boost morale, it doesn't sign judgments.

The most flavorful side of the case is cultural. Within hours, KFC, Kokoriko, and even the Presidency joined the defense: "what's authentic isn't copied, it's respected." This business brotherhood is unprecedented in a market historically seasoned with fierce competition. The legal dispute mutated into an interactive gastronomic soap opera, a dream gift for any marketing manager with a limited budget.

From the legal board, the paths are clear and none are cheap. Frisby can provide evidence of actual use, occasional shipments to European consumers, delivery licenses, food fairs, or even presentations on transatlantic flights. An action for unfair competition before the commercial courts of Madrid would add precautionary pressure. It's also worth questioning Colombian business itself. Frisby registered the European trademark in 2005 but never landed with a pop-up restaurant or pilot franchise. While juice chains open kiosks even in African airports, the Pereira chicken stayed on connecting flights. The case teaches that globalization punishes passivity; who doesn't use, loses. For Latin America, the message is a bit more forceful: exporting identity without establishing commercial presence turns the brand into easy prey for opportunistic hunters who operate with voracious speed.

The case reminds us that corporate reputation is as fragile as a glass. In the platform economy, visual identity travels faster than goods, and protecting it requires global vigilance. If Frisby succeeds, it will set an encouraging precedent for other Latin American firms that are beginning to sell narrative before product. If it fails, the disappointment will serve as a warning, in times of copy-paste, leaving the brand without effective use is paid for at a premium, and the consumer will be condemned to confuse nostalgia with cheap imitation on any digital menu.