ASSing around
Allied Domecq has created the Anti-Seriousness Squad to introduce a new generation to the 80s classic, Malibu. Ben McFarland joined it.
In the 1980s, Malibu Coconut Rum was a "cool" drink. Now, like other icons from that much-maligned decade, Malibu is looking to make a comeback.
However, having splashed out a tidy £517m to swipe the brand from Diageo, new owner Allied Domecq Spirits and Wine (ADSW) is hardly content to let Malibu surf the retro wave. ADSW's bean counters expect more than a nostalgic return.
ADSW has announced a long-term marketing strategy based on a "Campaign for a Life Less Serious". It is a humorous campaign, originally conceived by Diageo, that underlines the brand's laid-back Caribbean credentials and distances itself from the clichéd white stilletos and Essex-girl image of 20 years ago.
The expected fistful of marketing spend has been set aside for the advertising, with a shift from cinema to TV announced earlier this year. But getting the drink into the hands of a consumer in a way that is true to the brand and its advertising was identified as the next important step for Malibu.
Enter ASS. The Anti-Seriousness Squad has been recruited to spearhead the "Campaign for a Life Less Serious". Through the medium of street theatre, ASS packs a more powerful promotional punch than a standard sampling team which merely gives out free drinks.
As well as promoting the laid-back "Malibu perspective" it is charged with the task of encouraging drinkers to mix Malibu with cranberry juice while ensuring that the Malibu marketing folk can sleep easy, knowing the core target audience of 18 to 24-year-old girls is being reached.
Jeremy Hill, senior brand manager, said: "Designed to arrest and engage consumers, this 'experiential' approach increases the brand's relevance within consumers' lives. By bringing the brand to life, the activity establishes a stronger connection with consumers, which we expect will deliver volume increases over a longer period than a standard free drink promotion.
"The net result is a bigger benefit for the consumer, brand and outlet."
Marketing magic or mumbo jumbo? There was only one way to find out. I enrolled in the ASS to see for my myself.
Before being let loose on the front line, I was summoned to rehearsals at Elstree Film and TV Studios in Hertfordshire where I was put through my paces by Andrew Barclay from Fit2Fill Productions.
Fit2Fill is a theatre and television company that also specialises in "unpredictable live stunts and comedy-led activities for corporate clients".
"This is not something that anyone can do, it's a specialised skill," Andrew warned me. "Everybody we hire is a strong comedy actor with great improvisation skills. A lot of people are talent-spotted at the Edinburgh Festival.
"But it's not just about being funny, they need to get a message across and we make sure that when they talk to consumers they're 'on message'. We don't just want to be giving away a drink - we want people to remember a good experience and associate it with the brand."
Confessions of an ASS
With nothing but a very well-received performance as the gingerbread man in a primary school performance of The Gingerbread Man under my theatrical belt, I am sent to meet my fellow ASS members.
Charlotte Palmer, a stand-up comedienne, improvisation artist and actor; Lawry Lewin, a stand-up comic; Adam Smith, a self-confessed "comedy guru" and John Roy, a comedy actor and former Tweenie, make up one of several teams visiting 17 towns and cities throughout November and December.
This week they were stationed in Birmingham. They work Thursday and Friday nights for which each ASS member receives around £500 plus modest accommodation. To many this may seem a lot of cash for cruising round a few bars speaking to impressionable 18 to 24-year-old females but, as I soon found out, there are easier ways to make a living.
On arrival, I was told to leave my dignity and pride in the hotel room and given an ill-fitting Malibu uniform that frankly did nothing for my confidence. At around 5.30pm, armed with megaphones, placards and hand-held seriousness detectors, we set off for Birmingham city centre to "highlight the dangers of seriousness to the general public".
Our primary aim, however, was to get as many 18 to 24-year-old females as possible to fill in an anti-seriousness form with their details, including name, age and mobile phone number. In return they receive a complimentary Malibu and cranberry drink voucher redeemable in four participating outlets: Bar Risa, Walkabout, Springbok and Rat and Parrot.
"Data capture" is a key element of the exercise and the team has to collect around 400 anti-seriousness forms on the streets and in the bars.
To ensure the anti-seriousness message is communicated, the squad is given a set script. Though more often than not it's the impressive improvisation skills of the ASS members that break the ice with the cynical and the shy.
"People get embarrassed and there are always those who are afraid they have to buy something," said John. "But when they realise that they can get a free drink and we're not just giving out flyers they relax - once you make them laugh then they're on-side."
At around 9pm, after a couple of hours causing a commotion in the city centre, we hit the hedonistic highway that is Birmingham's Broad Street, with Walkabout the first port of call. Following a reconnaissance mission by Shane, the team leader, all the participating outlets are given an arrival time and asked to turn the music down in order to magnify the impact of our SAS-style megaphone-blaring and placard-blazing entry.
As I stood outside waiting for the order to "attack", there didn't seem to be many members of the target audience inside. In fact, I was concerned that all I could see were groups of large men gawping at the football. While I was happy to make idle chit-chat with pretty young girls, the idea of trying to convince burly Brummies that they should "take life less seriously" was not as appealing.
But before I could turn and scarper, we were given the order to burst in making as much noise as humanly possible. At first people thought it was a police raid but soon reactions turned from shock to curiosity and ASS indulged in some serious "data capture" and successfully met our mission objectives.
Aside from a very persistent man who was convinced it was funny to call me an "ass" and ruffle my hair, there was little ill will. Sadly I was unqualified to answer a young lady who asked whether Malibu and cranberry juice was an effective cure for thrush!
Ensuing raids were carried out at the Springbok and the Rat and Parrot with similar success. Sarah Bryant, co-manager at the Rat and Parrot, said: "It's a very different way of doing things and it works. I like the fact that Allied Domecq, which hasn't been very communicative in the past, has come in and help set up all the point-of-sale material rather than just sending in a box of posters and flyers and expecting us to do it."
All the outlets we visited were decked out with huge posters and banners and the staff got involved by wearing "anti-seriousness" t-shirts. However, the "bah humbug" award was given to Bar Risa whose management win a great big jug of Malibu and cranberry juice for being far too serious.
Despite the fact that we had been directing hordes of young females to the venue all night, the Regent Inns outlet not only refused to turn the music down but also ordered the ASS "not to be funny" as they claimed it would clash with the Jongleurs comedy club upstairs.
By about 10.30pm, with the booze-infused attention spans of drinkers getting smaller and the witty ASS remarks reaching intolerable levels, we called it a day. Shane returned to the partici
