A little less hero, a little more pantomime villain: How to perform for a booing crowd

I believe it is no longer realistic for brands to act like infallible heroes. Therefore, in a hostile consumer environment, the most engaging and memorable approach is to play the pantomime villain.

Companies have been misbehaving for quite a while.

The corporate doublespeak, greenwashing, enshittification. There has been a slow erosion of quality, all the while increasing shareholder value. And it has gone on for too long.

We have now hit a point where consumers are fed up. They are angry at the sheer imbalance of power, and they are resisting. Nowhere is this more visible than online, where influencers gain virality simply by taking on and challenging companies. This is what I dub the Viral Subversive Movement, and it's putting companies on the spot to respond.

In this new world, it is harder than ever to be a truly good brand and avoid being labelled a hypocrite. Once a company is labelled as the bad guy, that status is nearly impossible to refute.

The best thing a company can do is stop pretending. As consumers poke fun at companies online, I believe it will be the brands that play to their villain status that will get ahead

We Are A Long Way From Haggling

So capitalism. Companies want profit, consumers want a cheap price. It is not exactly compassionate or loving, but like a good haggle, when power is balanced, everyone can still get something out of it, and respect the mutual motives.

And inherently, the B2C relationship attracts some adversarial motives. Dan Ariely, in Predictably Irrational, touches upon this through market norms and social norms. Social norms are how we interact with the people around us, with a non-transactional moral duty, whereas market norms are our approach to business, bringing with it attitudes of calculation, advantage and self-reliance (Ariely, 2009).

Simply put, B2C relationships are allowed to have a little friction and be a little adversarial. And that is fine.

As capitalism moved past ancient market stall haggling, we got the emergence of modern companies and brands.

The ‘Brand’ is a comparatively modern invention, and is used, in part, to establish quality and trust. As Rory Sutherland argues, brands operate as a form of reputational capital: a signal that it would be more costly for the brand to screw its customers than to serve them well. This logic draws on Michael Spence’s ‘Signalling Theory’, where credible signals help reduce uncertainty about otherwise hard-to-observe qualities (Spence, 1973; Sutherland, 2019). Brands help consumers identify companies they trust, and in return allow companies to charge a fair premium. A fragile but functional balance of power.

But the balance of power has been eroded too far. Companies now have more control, more capital, more lobbying power, more behavioural data than ever before. And it shows in the way they act.

Enshittification, as Cory Doctorow calls it. The process by which services gradually become worse as value is clawed back for the business rather than the user (Doctorow, 2023). It is the Adobe subscription siphoning out money for something you used to be able to buy. It is the beloved Quality Street shrinking 8.3% in 2025 while prices increased by 16.7% in many stores (Leonard-Bedwell, 2025).

But the bad behaviour goes beyond product and price. We now see charade virtue signalling. Shoe providers talk compassion while running sweatshops. Oil companies touting green energy projects. Brands win favour by pretending to be morally upright. To manipulate. To pretend.

And consumers are catching on. Consumers struggle to believe businesses act ethically, in fact according to an IBE survey only 35% of the British public believe businesses behave very/fairly ethically (Institute of Business Ethics, 2024).

We are well past haggling. Companies have lost sight of Signalling Theory. Virtue is commoditised.

The ‘Stepford Brands’

For decades, corporate branding has been trapped in a Stepford Wives reality. In Ira Levin's novel, later adapted to film (Figure 2), the wives of Stepford are replaced by perfect robotic replicas, outwardly flawless, but hollow underneath. The smiles are too wide. The warmth is performative. And something feels wrong.

It is brands that chase this same painted-on perfection that I call Stepford Brands. Just like those dystopian wives, companies project an image without a hair out of place, even when the reality underneath tells a very different story.

And it makes sense. Companies want to be loveable, compelling and flawless. Boardrooms spend enormous energy crafting the image of the perfect, caring, ethical company, while forgetting to ask the more important question: is any of this consistent with how we actually behave?

It is also perfectly natural to want consumers to feel part of your family. It is great for loyalty. But if the actions do not follow, the language becomes dangerous. To invite consumers into your family, then steal their data, profile them and target them with higher prices, is not community. It is the Stepford smile. Warm on the surface. Extractive underneath. Dan Ariely, in Predictably Irrational, gives a useful warning through the idea of social norms and market norms. The danger comes when companies project social norms, this idea of being your friend, your family, your community, then drag consumers back into cold market norms the moment it benefits them (Ariely, 2009). When the brand says we care, then asks you to read the small print.

Lastly, it's nice to show your consumer how much you care about social issues. But a few pilot schemes and a solar panel on a warehouse does not make you the Dalai Lama. And if your actions are not consistent with your claims, you are not a caring brand. You are a Stepford Brand.

And consumers will find you out.

Coach is a good example of this. A brand encouraging repair and circularity through its Coach (Re)Loved programme, then facing a viral backlash after TikTok footage appeared to show slashed unsold bags being thrown away.

This sort of hypocrisy virtue signalling is discussed by behavioural scientist Michael Hallsworth in his book The Hypocrisy Trap. Hallsworth argues that consumers hold companies to a higher standard and are more eager to call out hypocrisy when they see it.

Where consumers see hypocrisy they are quick to get angry, because the company has wrongfully claimed positive social benefits while behaving otherwise (Hallsworth, 2025).

None of this is new. A quarter century ago, the authors of The Cluetrain Manifesto saw exactly where this was heading: "marketing has been training its practitioners for decades in the art of impersonating sincerity and warmth." But marketing could no longer keep up appearances, because people could talk, get on the web, and expose the company behind the smiling puppy (Levine et al., 2000, p. 100). The Stepford smile was fading. Now it's transparent.

The Viral Subversive Movement

And so what is the reaction from consumers? We see anger, subversion and people attempting to take on companies. It is not that consumers are just more angry than ever. It is that there are more tools at their disposal to learn about it and act upon it.

The internet has been a huge part of this change. Wally Olins saw this coming. In On Brand, he argued that the internet gives individuals the chance to find out more about companies and their brands, and to “challenge corporate behaviour” publicly. He saw disgruntled people calling out corporate misbehaviour as part of a wider “decline of hierarchy and deference” and the “rise of the individual voice” (Olins, 2007, pp. 66-67). TikTok had not yet arrived. The booing crowd had.

Now, with the advent of social media, the individual's voice against corporate behaviour has only been amplified.

What we see is the growth of consumer frustration into viral content. People do not just complain privately anymore. Or post in forums. They film, narrate, upload and invite the crowd to decide.

The audience is not only judging the transaction. It wants humour, rebalancing and justification.

It wants to watch the little guy bend the system and they want to be entertained as they watch it.

We see this content blowing up. The 'Chipotle Method' emerged in 2024, where young influencers were demanding larger sizes from staff over a growing frustration with shrinkflation (CBS News, 2024). Look at how viral a woman became for returning a two-and-a-half year old Costco sofa because she didn't like it anymore (Figure 3).

These activities are not Erin Brockovich. They are humorous jabs at institutions. They are highly engaging and viral, and they are attempts at rebalancing power.

Before the internet, the best a consumer could do was write a letter to the BBC about a grievance. Now, in the hands of every 14 year old, is a tool capable of challenging a company; not with guns, or even their wallets, but with funny content and a phone.

This kind of content is theatrical. It is entertaining. And it casts companies as the villains of the story.

The Compromised Middle

All the aforementioned sections may imply a world where every company is a scheming James Bond villain, sitting in a volcano lair, stroking a cat.

The truth is, of course, more complex.

There are evil companies that are truly evil. Releasing untested chemicals into a water system, or allowing asbestos in baby powder. This is just evil, and far beyond the scope of reprieve.

There are of course truly good companies. Those that are fair, consistent, and put the consumer and planet on equal footing with profit. I am minded of Tony's Chocolonely genuinely combating modern slavery in the cocoa supply chain.

But many companies are just trying their best. To actually be organic is to be more expensive than the competitor. To use handmade or sustainable resources costs more than a cheap IKEA table. Cocoa prices have genuinely gone through the roof, increasing by 43% between March 2022 and March 2025 due to environmental factors (Energy & Climate Intelligence Unit, 2025).

And of course, private equity and shareholders do need returns.

And so. Bad companies have been bad. Most companies are a little bad. And consumers are angry.

This creates the 'Compromised Middle'. The middle companies who cannot help but be part of a global supply chain. The middle companies that want to be greener, kinder and better, while also needing to compete, grow, satisfy investors and keep the lights on.

Chipotle is not an evil company, but they got the wrath of the Viral Subversive Movement for surreptitiously shrinking their sizes.

So what are companies actually supposed to do?

How should a middle company deal with the Viral Subversive Movement?

They can issue an official statement condemning the criticism or refuting the claims. This is the polished Stepford Brand approach: lifeless, defensive, almost guaranteed to invite more criticism.

They can do nothing. Take the hate, stay silent. That avoids fanning the flames, but cedes control of the narrative.

Or they can own it.

As E.W. Howe is often credited with saying: “I've got more respect for an out-and-out crook than for a guy who hangs around so close to the borderline between honesty and dishonesty that you never can feel sure which side he's on.”

If a company has been caught out, own the hate.

This is not just radical honesty. It is performance. The question is no longer how to maintain innocence, but how to perform to the booing crowd.

This is where the pantomime villain enters.

Enter stage right: The Pantomime Villain

Pantomime theatre. The UK has a rich history of it. The requisite Christmas panto, running months before December. Cheap gags. Audience participation. Snow White, Dick Whittington, Peter Pan. A distinctly British institution, and a genuinely unique theatrical environment. One of safety, drama, and joy. Where a hero, inevitably, overcomes a villain.

But what kind of villain? Not the cold, calculating kind. The pantomime villain is measured not by how much they are feared, but by how loudly they are booed and laughed at.

Take Captain Hook. His role is to be booed, jeered and mocked, but not truly hated. The audience enjoys the performance, and the villain plays along. The louder he is booed at the end of the story, the better the performance. It is his villainy that the audience enjoys.

The pantomime villain only works because there is an implicit contract with the crowd: I am the villain, you know I am the villain, and we are both in on it.

Let’s see how this applies to companies.

“Oh Yes He Is” - Own Your Motives

There is something unapologetically transparent about a pantomime villain. Captain Hook does not sit in a darkened corner and pretend he has nothing against Peter Pan. Jafar in Aladdin is not a complex jaded anti-hero. Cinderella's stepsisters don't have a sympathetic backstory. The pantomime villain's motivations are simple, visible, and owned.

This is the opportunity for brands caught by the Viral Subversive Movement. Not to pretend to be better than they are, but to own, quite openly, what their motives and misgivings are.

Michael Hallsworth, in The Hypocrisy Trap, argues that “consumers often respond better when businesses don’t pretend they are acting out of the goodness of their hearts” and that “trust and credibility can come from admitting mixed motives” (Hallsworth, 2025, ch.12, 34:03).

Oatly sits square in the Compromised Middle: plant-based, climate conscious, and genuinely purposeful. But when Blackstone became an investor, the brand found itself connected to a private equity firm whose track record on deforestation and environmental impact sat uncomfortably against everything Oatly stood for. Oatly is not evil. Just imperfect, in a space where imperfection reads as betrayal.

So Oatly created F*ck Oatly, a website collecting its own controversies (Figure 6). They did not hide. They did not radically change their ways. They just got honest and transparent about who they are.

A pantomime villain does not resist how the crowd sees them. They play it.

[Slide On The Banana Skin] - Learn How to Take the Fall

When the evil stepsisters in Cinderella try on the small glass slipper, this is not a tense moment of will they steal the prince. It is a moment to make fun of the villains being silly. They squawk and fight and twirl around. The actors gleefully slip on the proverbial banana skin. And it is precisely that fallibility, that self-aware absurdity, that stops a pantomime villain being a figure of genuine dread.

And no example illustrates this better than McDonald's.

In early 2026, McDonald's CEO Chris Kempczinski posted an Instagram video tasting the new Big Arch burger. He took a comically small bite and called the food a "product." The internet did what the internet does. Within hours, memes were circulating, rivals were piling on, and consumers were gleefully cutting McDonald’s down to size. The CEO tried to dig his way out.

He even tried to blame his mother (Nation's Restaurant News, 2026).

His reactions were classic Stepford Brand, but what the marketing team did later was a genius move. They posted "take a bite of our new product" alongside a photo of the Big Arch (Figure 7). It was deadpan, self-aware, sliding directly onto the banana skin. They did not defend. They did not explain. The result was millions of impressions and thousands of comments.

At this moment, the crowd was already booing and laughing at the company. It was a PR disaster. But instead of the status quo, McDonald's decided to turn around and take a bow. They joined in on the joke. They made fun of their CEO. And they found a memorable way to connect with their consumer.

“He’s Behind You" - Play To The Crowd

The pantomime villain does not ignore the booing. They use it. There is a back and forth, a call and response. They make the crowd’s jeering part of the show.

When the Viral Subversive Movement comes a-knocking, brands can either pretend it is not happening or find a way to play along.

Take Ryanair.

Ryanair is a very cost-aggressive company. Love them or hate them, they are working on the promise to provide affordable flights for everyone. But they also implement harsh extractive practices where they find loopholes to charge extra money.

The sheer hostility of the model creates an adversarial game where consumers are not just passengers, they are players trying to avoid being caught. We see this in people posting luggage hacks. Stuffing socks inside neck pillows. Wearing five layers of clothing onto a flight. Not exactly the storming of the Bastille. More the storming of Stansted with a hoodie full of pants.

But Ryanair does not clamp down on the joke or pretend it is above the conversation. On its social media, it reposts, responds, jokes and makes fun of these moments (Figure 8). It eggs on the crowd.

This is what makes it pantomime villainy. Ryanair is not trying to become your friend. It is not pretending to be a caregiver. It is saying, yes, we know what this is. We know you think the rules are harsh. We see you with the neck pillow full of socks.

Ryanair has not changed what they are. It looked at this Viral Subversive content and decided to join in. They put themselves on a pedestal and unashamedly owned the hate.

Implications for Brands

Ryanair, Oatly and McDonald's are not pure evil. They are imperfect companies in the Compromised Middle.

Each responds theatrically to criticism. They take ownership of the moment, take part in the Viral Subversive Movement, and embrace the role of the Pantomime Villain.

And the implications are as follows:

1. This is more behaviour than branding:

This is not a full branding exercise. A brand like Ryanair might choose to absorb pantomime villainy into its personality, but Oatly and McDonald's have not changed their entire brand. They just adopted the posture of a pantomime villain. This is a way of interacting with the Viral Subversive Movement to stand out and be memorable. McDonald’s is still an everyman brand, but this example shows a flash of pantomime. A flash of fallibility.

2. This can be reactionary or proactive:

Playing the pantomime villain can be reactionary or proactive. Ryanair is notorious for rage baiting and goading the crowd, proactively playing into the narrative consumers already have of them. McDonald's was different: a reaction to criticism, and a form of clever crisis management.

3. Context, Context, Context:

Captain Hook is scheming and self-interested, but he is not a true monster. Playing the pantomime villain works when the stakes are small. No one is mortified by Ryanair's baggage allowance, it's just annoying. This will not work where there is serious and concerning criticism.

The same applies to industries that require decorum or sincerity. A funeral parlour, a legal office, or a medical brand might struggle to communicate with its consumers in a pantomime fashion. And in this instance, an apology might be the most appropriate course.

4. The superpower is humour:

Be funny. This is how the Viral Subversive Movement thrives. Funny content travels faster than corporate clarification. All the examples listed above have an element of fun and silliness. Without humour, pantomime is just bad acting. To pull off a lovable villain, you have to make the crowd laugh.

5. Self-Awareness:

A big feature of the above examples is self-awareness. The brand has to show the crowd that it knows how it is being viewed, and then play to that image. Captain Hook knows he is the villain of the show. He understands the booing and performs accordingly. This is the brand breaking the fourth wall: creating a more interactive and playful engagement with critics, rather than the traditional preaching from the pulpit.

6. This is more than a social media play:

The Viral Subversive Movement may be most visible on social media, but pantomime villainy is not just about posting a funny reply when the crowd gets angry. Oatly proves this. F*ck Oatly is not a reactive meme; it is a deliberately built piece of brand infrastructure, an owned space where the brand collects its own criticism, rather than just a few posts hopping into a trend. Having a website like this is laying a permanent stake in the ground. It shows where Oatly stands: imperfect, exposed, and willing to let the audience see the dirt.

Are You Brave Enough?

The Stepford Brand has had its day. The Viral Subversive Movement is not going away. And most companies, likely yours, sit awkwardly in the Compromised Middle.

Projecting perfection is losing effect. I believe the brands that will be most memorable, and connect best with their consumers, are those brave enough to drop the act, especially when the crowd comes for them.

This does not mean becoming cruel, cynical or cartoonishly edgy. It means understanding the role the audience has already cast you in, and having the courage to perform it with honesty and humour.

And therefore: own your motives; learn how to take the fall; and play to the crowd. Be the honest, alluring pantomime villain, not the brand too precious to admit it has dirt under its fingernails.

The brand that, in the face of being booed, takes a bow.

Thomas Soares is a Marketing Strategist at Special Forces Strategy. This essay was submitted as part of the IPA Excellence Diploma in Brands.

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