Journal of Marketing Management, 2000, 16, 647-662

Stephen Brown1
and Anthony
Patterson

Knick-knack Paddy-whack, Give a

Pub a Theme

University of Ulster

Few cities in the UK lack an authentic Irish bar,

be it ONeills, Scruffy Murphys or Shifty OSheas.
Theme pubs, like theme parks, theme hotels and
theme restaurants, are very big business. Yet the
marketing academy seems somewhat reluctant to
investigate such establishments, professionally at
least.
This essay examines the theme pub
phenomenon and offers some reflexive reflections
on the recent, rapid rise of themed environments.
It concludes with some lessons for marketing
scholars, contending that excess is the essence of
our field. As William Blake observed, the road of
excess may lead to the palace of wisdom.

Opening Time
When and if a Marketing Hall of Fame is finally established, the first inductees
will doubtless include Ted Levitt, Philip Kotler, Shelby Hunt and our own, our
very own, Malcolm McDonald. But a space, surely, should also be reserved for
the one and only Donald Cameron, who departed to the great marketing
department in the sky on 16 August 1998. The late, lamented Mr. Cameron was
not a household name, admittedly, nor did he stand shoulder-to-shoulder with
the titans of marketing thought, such as the aforementioned Seer of Cranfield.
In the annals of marketing endeavour, nevertheless, Donald Campbell deserves
an honourable mention. A publican by trade, this redoubtable marketing martyr
was informed by the absentee landlord, Bass Breweries PLC, that his
establishment was about to be converted into a 1970s theme pub called Flares.
Worse, he would have to wear 70s regalia platform shoes, acrylic tank top,
mega-collared shirt and matching kipper tie, not to mention the eponymous
flared trousers whilst serving behind the bar. Such sartorial excrescences
would be enough to give anyone bell bottom blues, were sure you agree, but DC
was so shaken by the thought of sporting an Afro fright-wig, adhesive Zapata
mustache and gold-plated plastic medallion, that he promptly committed suicide
(Waddle 1998).
Sadly, Mr. Cameron was only 39 years old when he decamped to the disco
1

Correspondence: Professor Stephen Brown, University of Ulster, Commerce and

International Business, Shore Road, Newtonabbey, N Ireland, BT37 0QB

ISSN1472-1376/2000/060647+15 $12.00/0

Westburn Publishers Ltd.

648

Stephen Brown and Anthony Patterson

paradiso, with its relentless seventies soundtrack of retro fifties rockers like
Showaddywaddy, Susi Quatro, Alvin Stardust et al. Although all manner of male,
mid-life anxieties may have contributed to his untimely demise, the crucial point
is that DC was old enough to remember the dread decade in all its stack-heeled,
keep-on-truckin, wheres Wally awfulness. As anyone who wore the timeless loon
pants, toe-loop sandals and tie-dye T-shirt ensemble will readily testify, once was
quite enough for most people. Granted, Generations X and Y might wonder
what all the fuss is about (flares are cool, right?). Few would deny, furthermore,
that it could have been a lot worse (had Bass opted for a New Romantics theme
pub, for example, the resultant mass suicide would have made Waco, Texas, look
like a Mexican wave). Nevertheless, Mr. Camerons reaction, if somewhat
extreme, remains all too symptomatic of the disdain, distaste and, indeed, disgust
that many commentators feel towards the theme pub phenomenon. Glancey
(1997: 6) considers them to be hideous constructions, banal beyond all
redemption; Hayes (1997: 17) contends that they are kitsch bastardised versions
of the real thing; and Lezard (1998: 9) pulls no punches when he states, theme
pubs are rubbish. Let me explain in brutally simple terms. I do not go into
theme pubs because I am not a moron. Does that sound snobbish? I do not
give a damn if it does.
The sniping of snobs and sceptics notwithstanding, the simple fact of the
matter is that theme pubs are staggeringly successful. According to the most
recent figures assembled by Key Note (1999), there are now more than 3000
concept pubs in the UK and it is predicted that this figure will double by 2001.
A Mintel (1997) survey of 2000 adults, moreover, revealed that the majority of
respondents wanted to see additional theme pubs developed for their ersatz
enjoyment. So popular have they become that, in a classic coals to Newcastle or
cappuccino to Copacabana situation, replica Irish pubs are actually displacing
real Irish pubs, actual Irish pubs, genuine Irish pubs in Dublin, Cork, Belfast,
Enniskillen and elsewhere. Of the forty public houses pictured in the famous
Dublin Pubs Poster of 1973, no less than 13 have been given the theme
treatment, or some manner of marketing makeover, and a further two have been
demolished. In fact, the vast majority of new pubs in Ireland are themed,
although preferred formats are not confined to imitation Irishness (Sunday
Business Post 1997). Recent developments include: Lillys Bordello, a brothelstyle operation in central Dublin; Break for the Border, a wild-west, cattle-rusting
concept, also in Dublin; the Tu Tu Tango, a Caribbean inflected dance bar in
Cavan; The Galleon, a Spanish Armada-esque pub in Letterkenny; and the
nearby Mount Errigal Hotel, which boasts a bowdlerised representation of west
Africa (with just a hint of the Indian sub-continent). Authentic pubs, so it seems,
are no longer needed, wanted or cared for in Ireland. Its almost enough to drive
one to drink!
Despite their manifest popularity with the imbibing public, theme pubs have
thus far failed to whet the whistles of marketing academics (but see Clarke et al
1998). There is, of course, a compendious trade literature the industry even
has its own dedicated magazine, imaginatively entitled Theme and the subject

Knick-knack Paddy-whack, Give a Pub a Theme

649

of theming is generating considerable excitement amongst our sociological

brethren (e.g. Gottdeiner 1997; Hannigan 1998; Ritzer 1999; Sorkin 1992). But
marketers, as a rule, seem strangely reluctant to go down the pub in a
professional capacity. The purpose of the present paper, then, is to examine the
theme pub phenomenon and provide an appropriately postmodern account of its
pervasiveness. It commences with a consideration of the theme pub in general
and the Irish pub in particular; continues with a summary of the factors that
have contributed to todays ostensible themeania; culminates in a succinct
deconstruction of three theming themes, inauthenticity, plenitude and
retrospection; and concludes with some lessons that themed environments
contain for the marketing academy. This essay, it must be stressed, does not
claim to be the final word on theme pubs, nor even the first word on theming.
Nor, for that matter, does it maintain that postmodernism is the only theoretical
thoroughfare open to theme pub crawlers. But the paper does at least attempt to
develop an account that goes beyond marketings usual explanatory array of
environmental trends, customer preferences, competitive circumstances and
the like.
Erin Go Bass
It almost goes without saying that public houses have been around since time
immemorial. Peter Clarks (1983) exemplary social history indicates that premodern China, classical Greece and ancient Rome all had their Inns; that the
peasants of twelfth-century Poland and Russia regularly patronised their
korschmas; that ale-mongers could be found in many parts of western Europe by
the late Middle Ages; and, that hostelries, tavernas and pulquarias were
widespread in colonial Mexico. In Britain, moreover, it is a common observation
that pubs are situated at the heart of the nations social life and partaking a swift
pint (or several) has long been considered one of the most popular forms of
recreation (see Barr 1998; Everitt and Bowler 1996; Parissen 1991; Powell 1998).
A celebrated 1930s study, The Pub and the People, noted that of all the social
institutions which shape our lives, the public house is more prevalent, holds
more people, earns more money, and accounts for more of peoples time than
every church, cinema, leisure facility and political organisation combined (Mass
Observation 1987). The same publication also articulated what it is that makes
the British pub unique.
It is the only kind of public building used by large numbers of ordinary people
where their thoughts and actions are not being in some way arranged for
them; in other kinds of public buildings they are the audiences, watchers of
political, religious, dramatic, cinematic, instructional and athletic spectacles.
But within the four walls of the pub, once a man has bought or been bought
his glass of beer, he has entered an environment in which he is participator
rather than spectator.
(Mass Observation 1987, p.1)

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Stephen Brown and Anthony Patterson

Just as the public house is deeply engrained in the national psyche, so too theme
pubs have been around for a very long time, as has the attendant antagonism.
Before the Second World War, for example, Burke (1936, p. 61) bemoaned the
fact that pub architecture had ground to a halt in the 1820s, whereupon pub
builders appeared unable to do more than hark back to the eternal forms of
Tudor, or Queen Anne or the early Georges. Thirty years ago, Cooper (1970, p.
81) pined for an end to ever-proliferating excrescences of Plywood Jacobean,
Neutered Jazz and Neo-Georgian Country Grammar, claiming that the last
genuine pub was probably built somewhere around the year 1914Everything
since then has been either a compromise or in a way a kind of fake. More
recently, a commentator on the state of pub design in the 1950s concluded that,
even in those days, pub operators indulged in every kind of extravagant absurdity
in the invention of gimmicks, racking their brains to think of a new nonsense
whenever a pub was built or an existing bar renovated. The atlas was combed
from Spain to the South Seas, the compendium of trades and occupations from
whaling to wheel-tapping, the sporting calendar from ice-hockey to hurling
(Davis 1981, p. 16).
Theme pubs, then, may not be new, but they are becoming increasingly
ubiquitous. As a stroll through any town or city centre in the UK readily reveals,
todays lounge bars, ale houses, grog shops and time-worn taverns have gone
concept crazy.
Classification, naturally, is difficult, due to definitional
disagreements the borderline between themed and non-themed establishments
is not clear-cut and the extraordinarily rapid pace of change (Mintel 1997;
Keynote 1999). It is possible, nonetheless, to identify pubs based on musical
themes (pop, rock, metal, jazz, blues, country, classical, opera), movie themes
(star, studio, specific film), television themes (Coronation Street, Eastenders,
Baywatch, Star Trek, X-Files), retro themes (twenties, sixties, seventies), sports
themes (football, cricket, rugby, pool) and all manner of miscellaneous types
(military, aircraft, prison etc.). National or country themes, however, are the most
common format by far, with more than six times the number of sports bars, the
second largest category (Table 1).
Ersatz ethnicity, clearly, is the concept du jour and lovers of gross national
reproductions have a wide range of caricatures to choose from. Mexican, Greek,
Jamaican, American and, yes, English themed establishments are all plying their
profitable trade, though simulated Scottish, artificial Australian and imagined
Irish outlets are currently leading the pack. The first of these stereotypes -typically named The Highlander or The Flying Scotsman -- has been rapidly
expanding, thanks to the endeavours of prominent pub operator and brewer,
Scottish & Newcastle (Yates 1997). Belhaven Breweries is also developing a
mini-chain of Scots themed pubs called Drouthy Neebors and, not to be
outdone, Tennents Taverns has launched an analogous operation entitled -youll never guess -- Jocks (Gibb 1997). Australian pubs, furthermore, are one of
the fastest growing concepts at present, possibly on account of that countrys
beer-swilling, sports-playing tradition, coupled with its fast-living, fun-loving, devil-

Knick-knack Paddy-whack, Give a Pub a Theme

651

may-care attitude and high global profile associated with the Sydney Olympics.
Greenalls, for instance, has recently opened The Roo Bar in Bristol, which
features a surf simulator, a boomerang shaped serving area, stuffed koalas,
Antipodean lagers, a dentists chair (for downing spirit shots), an imitation
Aborigine cave and toilets marked Bruce and Sheila. Scottish & Newcastle,
similarly, are banking on the bankability of Australia by opening a series of pubs
that trade under the arresting moniker, Bar Oz. Here, the laid-back Aussie
attitude is reinforced by a prominently displayed slogan, No Worries Mate
(Mintel 1997).
Table 1. Numbers and Turnover of Themed Pubs and Bars, by Sector,
1997

Number

Average
weekly
turnover

Total
turnover
m

Country themed pubs

Sports themed bars
American pool themed
bars
Other themed pubs/bars

301
52
44

69
11.9
10.1

11,000
27,500
6,500

172
74
15

61
26.2
5.3

39

10,000

21

7.5

Total

436

100

12,285

282

100

Mintel (1997)
The advent of Scottish, Australian, American and English themed establishments
is undeniably impressive, as are various forthcoming formats, most notably
African Art Deco, Ancient Rome and Inter-galactic (Theme 1998). However, the
theme pub touchstone has long been, and to some extent remains, the Emerald
Isle (Carter 1997; Grose 1997). Approximately ninety-five per cent of the UKs
country-themed pubs are predicated on representations of Ireland. ONeills,
developed by Bass, is the single largest chain (108 outlets, as of 1997), which
leaves Punch Taverns lagging some way behind, with its 39 Scruffy Murphys
(recently acquired from Allied Domecq). The Greenalls Group also operates a
chain of 12 individually named Irish pubs, including Shifty OSheas, Daisy
OBrien and ORaffertys, and Whitbread has followed suit with 10 outlets under
the sign of OHagans and J.J. Murphy. The epitome of Oirishness, nonetheless, is
Waxy OConnors, opened by Glenora Leisure in 1996. An 80,000 sq ft labyrinth
in deepest, darkest Soho, Waxys is the superpub to end all superpubs, with its
warren of neo-Celtic drinking spaces. Here a fake pharmacy; there a kitsch
chapel; over there a replica spirit grocer. A pulpit for storytelling, copious sepiahued photographs and wall-mounted displays of copper utensils help complete
the picture, albeit the establishments centerpiece is a 200 year-old, lightning-

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Stephen Brown and Anthony Patterson

blasted tree-trunk, which was painstakingly shipped over from Erins craggy
shores.
Excessive perhaps, extravagant unquestionably and doubtless
environmentally unfriendly, but the bottom line is that Waxys sells over 45,000
drinks per week, making it one of Britains busiest pubs (Denning 1997; The
Economist 1996). So successful has the concept proved, that two additional
branches or should that be trunks? have since been opened in Glasgows
west end and Fifth Avenue, New York.
New York, to be sure, to be sure, is hardly a stranger to Irish pubs, nor are
most of the worlds major cities. Irelands reputation as a friendly, forthcoming,
fond-of-a-drink nation, where celebration, conviviality and the craic come first, is
proving eminently exportable. Several development companies currently exist,
such as Murphy Brewery Ireland and Blue Tree Refurbishment, based in
Northern Ireland (Belfast Telegraph 1996; Cowan 1997). But, by far the biggest
and longest established is the Irish Pub Company. Founded in 1991, as a joint
venture between Guinness and the McNally Design Group, IPC specialises in
fitting out authentic Irish pubs across the globe and, by doing so, opens new
markets for the brewer (Asia Pulse 1997; Simms 1998). In 1998, the companys
turnover touched 12 million and it employed 75 people in a variety of roles
including site selection, obtaining liquor licences, pub marketing and promotion,
and coordinating food and beverage distribution. All told, Guinness has helped
open over 1,250 Irish pubs worldwide 400 in Germany, 300 in Britain and,
somewhat surprisingly, 200 in Italy, which has virtually no pub culture. The
emphasis is firmly placed on assistance, since advice is given free of change, and
thus the arrangement cannot be considered a form of franchising. The only
return the brewer receives comes from additional product availability and any
subsequent increase in sales.
Slinte.
The Moon Under Water
The success of theme pubs in general and Irish theme pubs in particular is not
solely due to the export marketing expertise of IPC, or the follow-my-leader
mentality of British beer barons, or even the entrepreneurial acumen of acute
individuals, such as Sean Quinn, who has recently opened a 2.2 million pub in
that hotbed of Irish nationalism, Berlin. It is also attributable to significant
changes in the marketing environment. In Britain, for example, a 1989
Monopolies and Mergers Commission investigation, which was prompted by
concerns over anti-competitive practices in a highly integrated industry,
recommended that the long-standing linkages between manufacturing and
distribution be broken. Major brewers were thus required to shed some but
not all of their pub portfolios and concentrate on their demonstrably liquid
assets. This opened the door for smaller, regional brewers, who seized the
opportunity to expand rapidly, and allowed non-brewing leisure groups, such as
Punch Taverns, Unique, Avebury and Pubmaster, to get a firm foothold for the
first time (Willman 2000).

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653

The influx, in fact, did much to revitalise the trade, because the traditional
pub had long been declining in attractiveness. For decades prior to the MMC
investigation, the image of the British pub was steadily deteriorating. It was
widely regarded as a malodorous den of iniquity, a strictly male domain, with
dirty lavatories, dilapidated furnishings, substandard selection of drinks, and
paltry provision of life-threatening snacks sweaty cheese sandwiches, salted
peanuts, pork scratchings and others too inedible to mention (Everitt and Bowler
1996; Sudjic 1988). On top of this, it was believed to be the stomping ground of
thugs and hooligans, the dregs of society, a place where outbreaks of violence
were part of the floorshow. By 1986, unsurprisingly, the pubs share of UK beer
sales had slumped to 84% (from 95% in 1967) and it was deemed terminally ill,
done for by colour television, video recorders, wine bars and the Thatcherite
decimation of heavy industry, with its beer-quaffing, fag-smoking, turf-accounting
ethic (Samuel 1994; The Economist 1996). Although the traditional pub
remained embedded in the national imaginary, thanks in no small measure to
The Rovers Return, The Queen Vic, The Woolpack and The Bull (in Ambridge),
it was clear that something needed to be done to halt the decline. Enter the
themed environment
It is generally accepted that the Beer Orders of 1989 helped precipitate the
proliferation of theme pubs, alongside long-term environmental trends like rising
disposable incomes, longer paid holidays, credit card eruption, increasing female
patronage, the telecommunications revolution, an ethos of spend rather than
save etc. (see Ritzer 1999). BO, however, fails to account fully for the most
fascinating aspect of the theme pub phenomenon. Namely, the phenomenon of
theming itself. Themes, after all, extend far beyond the well-upholstered, flockwallpapered, electric-candelighted confines of the lounge bar. Theres hardly a
High Street in Britain without its quota of pseudo thirties tea shoppes, fake fifties
diners, sham seventies discotheques and naff neo-Edwardian amusement
arcades. The suburbs, similarly, are suffused with mock Tudor shopping malls,
seen-one-seen-em-all heritage centres and Walt Disney inseminated theme
parks. Even the intervening arterial roads are lined with an all-too-familiar array
of theme restaurants, theme motels, and theme retailers, though theres no point
trying to escape since airport departure lounges, train stations, ferry termini and
holiday destinations have also been themed to death (Brown 2000).
Although marketing academics seem curiously reluctant to give theming a
thought (but see Belk 1996a; Sherry 1998; Clarke et al. 1998), the same cannot
be said for sociologists and cultural theorists. After decades of denouncing the
marketing system and explicating the means of production, they have finally
woken up to the joys of 21st-century consumer society and its remarkable
predeliction for themed environments. The literature on Disneyland alone is
enormous (Baudrillard 1983; Bryman 1995; Fjellman 1992; Giroux 1999).
According to Gottdeiner (1997), for instance, we are witnessing nothing less than
the wholesale theming of America, which he attributes to the machinations of
multi-national capital and its mendacious desire to disguise the exploitative
exchange process. Crawford (1992) considers it to be a consequence of cut-

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Stephen Brown and Anthony Patterson

throat competition in the leisure industries, an inevitable outcome of saturated

markets, sated consumers and ambitious entrepreneurs eternally seeking an
exploitable edge (even to the extent of concocting horrible neologisms like
eatertainment, shopertainment and edutainment). Ritzer (1999), by contrast,
regards theming as a means by which the rationalised, standardised,
McDonaldised milieu of late modernity, where everywhere is the same as
everywhere else, is slowly being reenchanted, re-manticised and released from the
Weberian iron cage, if only on parole. Beardsworth and Bryman (1999), on the
other hand, see themed environments as a throwback to P.T. Barnums totallyover-the-top, customer-cozening extravaganzas of the mid-nineteenth century
(though they completely misrepresent the character of Barnumarketing and are
patently unaware of the pertinent psychological literature on the Barnum Effect
see Brown 1998, 2000).
Such attempted sociological explanations are many and varied, but their
principal point of agreement is that theming has something to do with
postmodernism. Now, postmodernism is one of the buzzwords of the late
twentieth century, seemingly applied to everything from making love (over the
Internet, by means of teledildonic body-suits) to making war (as in the Gulf or
Kosovo, where virtual attacks were mounted and western casualties avoided at all
costs). In certain respects, indeed, postmodernism is a kind of make-work
scheme for underemployed intellectuals, since an enormous number of scholars
in every conceivable academic discipline seems to be engaged in explaining,
interpreting and codifying the concept, such as it is (Berger 1998; Connor 1997).
Needless to say, this has given rise to long lists of purportedly postmodern
features, a kind of conceptual Christmas pudding from which commentators pull
out their favourite PoMo plumbs. Without doubt, one of the biggest postmodern
plumbs is theming, albeit it usually parades under the hyperreal pseudonym.
Hyperreality involves the creation of marketing environments that are more real
than real, where the distinction between reality and fantasy is momentarily
blurred (Baudrillard 1983; Eco 1986; Perry 1998). For some enthusiasts, indeed,
hyperreality is superior to everyday mundane reality, since the aversive side of
authentic consumption experiences anti-tourist terrorism in Egypt, muggings
in New York, dysentery in Delhi magically disappears when such destinations
are recreated in Las Vegas, Busch Gardens, Walt Disney World, or wherever. Be
that as it may, themed environments are often cited as exemplars of hyperreality,
along with the virtual environments of cyberspace, the retro environments of
heritage centers and the working environments witnessed in backstage tours of
television studios, movie lots and nuclear reprocessing plants, amongst others
(Brown 1995; Firat and Venkatesh 1995).
The basic problem with postmodernism, as it is understood and applied by
our sociological colleagues, is that it doesnt constitute an explanation, nor for
that matter does hyperreality. At most, it is a description or, worse, a tautology
(insofar as the existence of hyperreality is used to prove postmodernism and vice
versa). Sociological postmodernism, similarly, cannot account for the fact that
themed environments long predate the postmodern epoch. As noted previously,

Knick-knack Paddy-whack, Give a Pub a Theme

655

theme pubs were a commonplace fifty years ago, when none other than George
Orwell (1997) fantasised about his perfect pub, a welcoming establishment called
The Moon Under Water which contained draught stout, open fires, cheap meals,
a garden, motherly barmaids and no radio. The theme park, furthermore, is
conventionally dated from the construction of Coney Island, in the hey-day of
modernity, though some trace the concept to the Great Exhibition of 1851 and
the ensuing Worlds Fairs (Kasson 1978; Nasaw 1993; Rydell 1984, 1993). Set
against this, it can of course be contended that postmodernism has been around
for a very long time, under the guise of Romanticism and the anti-Enlightenment
(Brown et al 1998). Lyotard (1984), likewise, would have us believe that the
postmodern is not only within but always precedes the modern, as a kind of
every-ready avant-garde. Williams (1977), what is more, maintains that every
cultural formation contains dominant, emergent and residual elements, which
provide endless opportunities for identifying precursors, antecedents, prototypes
and suchlike. Massaging the concept in this manner, however, only serves to
subvert postmodernisms intellectual utility and provide additional fault-finding
fodder for its manifold mainstream antagonists and detractors.
Accounting for Taste
Rather than waste time in the sociological labyrinth in search of an
instrumentalist explanation of theming -- explanation, remember, is contrary to
postmodern precept (Brown 1995) -- it may be more instructive to adopt an
appropriately reflexive perspective. That is, to interrogate the themes of theming,
the important yet unstated metamatters that lurk in the conceptual unconscious.
Clearly, this approach raises the spectre of essentialism, but three para-themes
are sufficiently suggestive to warrant superficial summary: inauthenticity,
plenitude and retrospection.
For many observers, the profusion of themed environments epitomises
postmodern inauthenticity and the loss of reality associated with our age of
simulacra, spectacle and cybernetic reproduction. Certainly, there is no shortage
of subscribers to this debasement thesis, as Huxtables (1997) hilariously
hyperbolic harangue against hyperreality exemplifies (see also Burns 2000;
Knight 2000; Morrison 2000). Set against this, Baudrillard (1983), Eco (1986),
MacCannell (1989) and Ritzer (1999) would argue that, in postmodernity, there is
no such thing as authenticity, only varying degrees of inauthenticity. ONeills,
Scruffy Murphys, Waxy OConners and so on may be several notches higher on
the kitsch-o-meter than authentic Irish pubs, but the beauty of such fakes is that
the conviviality, the communitas, the craic are certain to appear on cue. This is
not true of genuine establishments, where unpredictability reigns and
serendipity cant be guaranteed. While the real experience may be wonderful for
the lucky few who happen to be in the right place at the right time, todays pubgoers appear unwilling to accept overworked excuses like you should have been
here last night, even if it means settling for an imitation. Hence, the character
holding court in the corner of an Irish bar on Sunset Boulevard may be an out of

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Stephen Brown and Anthony Patterson

work actor, whose accent is closer to west Hollywood than west Cork, but at least
he looks the part, knows the script and remembers to deliver the punchlines.
Analogously, the volcano outside the Mirage Hotel in Las Vegas may well be
made of plastic but it is timed to erupt at fifteen-minute intervals. The wildlife in
Disneys Jungle Cruise may be animatronic, but luckily the critters dont sleep all
day or hide themselves away from paying tourists prying eyes. The weavers,
millers, miners, blacksmiths and farmhands down the local heritage center may
have acquired their traditional skills all of two weeks beforehand (on the
museums rude mechanicks training course), but the visitors seem content with
their demonstrations of the art of work in an age of reproduction mechanicals
(Brown et al 2000).
Inauthenticity is all very well, or reliable at least, but the question still has to
be asked: what is the attraction of such establishments when they are patently
fake, assembled from kits made on an industrial estate in Essex? For some
commentators, it is their very falseness that attracts, since it enables postmodern
patrons to consume the experience ironically (Beardsworth and Bryman 1999).
Empirical research undertaken by the authors, however, indicates that this is not
the case and that themed environments are regarded as just like reality, only
better. Their appeal, rather, appears to entail real-ness, a sense of reality as
opposed to reality itself. In themelandia, capturing a sense of reality is very
important, as the designers of such establishments make clear. But, as
authenticity is unavailable to the themesters, this spirit, or air, of reality is evoked
through plenitude. That is to say, reality is created by means of an exaggerated
attempt to capture everything about the theme in question. The imagineers of
themed environments, in short, seek to evoke Irish-ness, American-ness, Nineteen
seventies-ness, through the sheer proliferation of artifacts, objects, knick-knacks
and memorabilia. Every available signifier and vaguely relevant referent is
thrown into the mix and, while the result may strike many as a grotesque
caricature, it is ness-essary to include everything in order to convey a sense of
(pseudo) plenitude and create a (counterfeit) cornucopia. Themed environments
are often described as imitations, as simulacra, as parodies, as superficial tissues
of ill-chosen quotations, as preposterous monuments to postmodern artifice.
This is true; it cannot be denied. But they are also much more than that, insofar
as the themes attempt to capture the essence, the core, the kernel of the concept
concerned. They are epitomisations not imitations, syntheses not simulacra, the
pith rather than parodies, the quintessence rather than quotations. They are the
apotheosis of the artificial, the kitsch, the ersatz. Archetypcasting prevails in the
Hollywood-esque theme factory.
Above and beyond abundance and inauthenticity, theming is intriguing on
account of its retrospective bent. A crucial point to bear in mind about theme
pubs and themed environments generally is that they are unerringly retro, a
repository of times past. The Scottish, Australian, English or Irish pub is not a
representation of contemporary conditions in the countries concerned (polluted,
grid-locked, dilapidated etc.) but an attempted evocation of the way things were,
or how the designers imagined them to be. Thus the typical Irish theme pub,

Knick-knack Paddy-whack, Give a Pub a Theme

657

with its garish green dcor, pseudo-Gaelic invocations, thousand welcomes

doormats, shamrock-inscribed fittings, peat-burning fireplace, freshly brewed
stout, wide range of whiskeys, conspiratorial hints of under-the-counter-poteen,
and general air of pseudo-hiberno bonhomie, cannot be considered indicative of
todays Ireland, yesterdays Ireland, or any other Ireland this side of The Quiet
Man. Irish theme pubs, in point of fact, are commercially-motivated
commodifications of the Celtic Revival of the late-nineteenth century, which was
itself a politically-motivated commodification an invented tradition of halfbaked Irish pre-history (Patterson et al 1998). The same is true of theme
restaurants (consider Ruby Tuesdays, an amalgam of every era within living
memory), theme parks (even Disneys Tomorrowland is redolent of 1950s
futurism) and theme resorts such as Las Vegas, where the representations of
New York, Paris or wherever unfailingly refer to times past. Hence, it is the New
York of huddled masses, West Side Story and On the Town, not the pot-holed,
grid-locked, yellow-cabbed Gotham City that we know and love. Likewise, it is
Gay Paree of La Belle Epoch, Gustav Eiffel and the Impressionists, not the
hamburger-chained Champs Elyse, Arc de McTriomphe and tawdry, all-tootawdry Follies of today. Themed environments, then, are in thrall to the past
(although the associated technology is always up to date) and as such are of little
interest to marketing scholars, who continue to subscribe to the progressive, the
onward-and-upward, the washes whiter-than-white mindset of the APIC
paradigm. Practitioners, of course, are knee-deep in nostalgia, but academics
seem strangely reluctant to interrogate todays retro-marketing revolution. The
future, however, is history (Brown 2000).
Last Orders
It is fair to say, in conclusion, that themed environments have not exercised the
imaginations of academic marketers thus far. It is arguable, nevertheless, that
the theme pub is a metaphor for the modern marketing condition. Some
readers, admittedly, might baulk at such an extravagant extrapolation and
rightly so. But, if William Blake believed himself capable of capturing the world
in a grain of sand and if todays consumers are prepared to read fellow shoppers
by the miscellaneous contents of their trolleys (Johnson 1996), then finding
modern marketing at the bottom of a replica pint pot hardly constitutes a crime
against Kotler.
Be that as it may, three brief points can be extracted from our theme pub
analogy. The first of these is the obvious but irrefutable truism that marketing,
like the themed environment, is enormously popular, extraordinarily successful,
the conceptual Boyzone-cum-Spice Girls of our time. Theres hardly a domain
that hasnt accepted the marketing message politics, education, public policy,
medicine, religion, the arts etc. and it is simply impossible to get financial
support for a business start-up without extensive accompanying evidence of
marketing understanding (plans, strategies, research and so on). The Kotlerites,
clearly, have inherited the earth.

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Stephen Brown and Anthony Patterson

A second and closely related point is that, for all its success, marketing is held
in very low esteem. Just as the theme pub receives more than its fair share of
public disapprobabtion, so too marketing is a byword for gimmickry,
dissimulation, flim-flam and exploitation. Despite the decades-long protests of its
proponents, who maintain that marketing is really about customer orientation,
customer care, customer service, customer delight and all the rest, it is not
perceived thus by large numbers of people, even those who have embraced its
ideology. One only has to peruse the non-business literature architecture,
aesthetics, sociology, anthropology, museology etc. to see that this remains the
case and no amount of outraged remonstration will render it otherwise.
Marketing is vulgar.
In this regard, our third and final parallel pertains to excess. As this paper
has attempted to show, theme pubs are all about excessiveness, about
exaggeration, about throwing everything into the mix, about capturing the
essence of the represented phenomenon, be it Ireland, Indonesia or Indiana
Jonesian Egyptology. The same is true of marketing. Marketing means more,
more, More! Marketing is shop-til-you-drop, live-life-to-the-max, the-ultimatedriving-machine, the-crumbliest-flakiest-milk-chocolate-in-the-world, the-worldsfavourite- airline. It is the Big Mac, the Whopper, the Monster Burger, the mega
mall, the hypermarket, the category killer, the superduper-giant size, the acme,
the XXL, the triple-strength, the blockbuster, the colossus, the extravaganza, the
cheapest, the largest, the mostest, the greatest show on earth. Theres nothing
average about marketing. Marketing is the be all and end all. Marketing, lest we
forget, is everything (McKenna 1991).
Marketing discourse, in short, is hopelessly hyperbolic and it is both accepted
and discounted as such by consumers. That is why shoppers remain sceptical
when marketers claim to love them, care for them and have their interests at
heart. Marketings promises however well meant or indeed adhered to are
ordinarily taken with a pinch or two of salt. And rightly so. It follows, therefore,
that there is no point in telling consumers the unvarnished truth, because they
will assume that it is the varnished unvarnished truth and act accordingly.
Despite the protests of straight-talking, customer-hugging, honesty-is-the-bestpolicy proselytes, the simple fact of the matter is that marketing is exaggerated, it
always has been exaggerated, it always will be exaggerated. Marketing needs
more exaggeration, not less.
In a similar vein, no one expects theme pubs to be real quite the reverse
though that shouldnt render them repugnant. Theme pubs are inauthentic, but
that doesnt make them ineffectual. Theme pubs must be prodigal, because
thats what makes them profitable. As the master self-marketer and workshy
evangelist of the drinking classes, Oscar Wilde, once artfully observed,
Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess.
Have you time for another?

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659

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