Stephen Mulhern featured in a new ITV show, Accidental Tourist, with Ant and Dec last night (December 14), and viewers were left divided.

The one-hour programme saw the presenting duo send their good friend Stephen on a trip to Korea for the first time, where he had to face his fears and overcome them.

From raw seafood and extreme acupuncture to a fishing trip with some fearless freediving ‘mermaids’ and a naked Korean massage, Stephen was pushed to his limits.

Stephen Mulhern faced his fears on the ITV show (Credit: ITV)

Ant and Dec show Accidental Tourist slammed by ITV viewers

However, as viewers tuned in, not everyone was sold on the show. In fact, many accused the programme of animal cruelty.

During the first half of the show, Stephen appeared inside a food market where much of the seafood was still alive when purchased. In one scene, he was forced to grab an octopus while it was still moving.

“Time and time again, animals been used abhorrently for senseless views. When will we do better as humanity?” one user wrote on X.

“I love Ant & Dec but animal cruelty is not entertainment!!” another person shared.

“Why is animal exploitation embedded in every #ITV show,” a third remarked.

“Animal abuse isn’t entertainment,” a fourth declared.

Meanwhile, many slammed the show for being a rip-off of An Idiot Abroad.

“Anyone fawning over the narcissistic #AccidentalTourist, it’s just a blatant ripoff of #AnIdiotAbroad, which was done far better – less playing up for the camera and more authentic immersion in culture. @antanddec and @StephenMulhern devoid of originality once more,” one said.

“So it’s an idiot abroad rip-off then,” another admitted.
Stephen grabbed a living octopus (Credit: ITV)

‘I need more!’

That said, many loved the episode and wished there were more to come.

“I need more of  @StephenMulhern and @antanddec on TV together like this. What a lovely friendship! #AccidentalTourist,” one person said.

“After watching @StephenMulhern on #AccidentalTourist last night, overcoming many fears and trying things he’d not done before, I take my hat off to him. Absolute legend. I can see a series of these trips but @antanddec have to do trips too,” another person wrote.

“Couldn’t be happier for @StephenMulhern conquering his fears. Absolutely nailed it, mate!” a third person shared.

The latest episode of Ant and Dec’s Accidental Tourist with Stephen Mulhern has sparked an intense backlash from ITV viewers, with many taking to social media to express anger, disappointment, and genuine distress over scenes they believe crossed a moral line. What was intended as light-hearted, chaotic entertainment instead triggered a wave of criticism, with viewers accusing the programme of treating animals as props rather than living beings. The reaction has been swift and emotional, revealing a growing sensitivity among audiences about how animals are portrayed on television.

At the centre of the controversy are scenes that viewers felt placed animals in uncomfortable or distressing situations for the sake of comedy. While the show has always relied on awkwardness, surprise, and cultural clashes to generate humour, this particular episode struck a nerve. For many, it represented a step too far — a moment where entertainment tipped into exploitation. The laughter that the show seemed to invite was, for some viewers, replaced by discomfort and anger.

Social media platforms quickly became the primary outlet for this frustration. Viewers flooded comment sections with accusations that the programme was outdated, irresponsible, and tone-deaf. Phrases like “animal abuse isn’t entertainment” appeared repeatedly, echoing a shared sentiment that comedy should never come at the expense of an animal’s wellbeing. The sheer volume of responses suggested this was not a niche complaint, but a widespread reaction cutting across the show’s usual fan base.

What made the backlash particularly striking was that Ant and Dec are generally regarded as some of the safest, most reliable figures on British television. Their brand has long been built on warmth, accessibility, and family-friendly appeal. For many viewers, seeing their names attached to a show accused of animal mistreatment felt jarring. It challenged the assumption that their projects could be trusted implicitly to align with modern values.

Stephen Mulhern’s involvement added another layer to the reaction. Known for his energetic, mischievous presenting style, Mulhern often thrives on chaos and unpredictability. While this works well in studio-based formats, some viewers felt that when transferred into real-world situations involving animals, the same approach became inappropriate. The line between playful mischief and irresponsible behaviour, they argued, was blurred.

Critics of the episode emphasised that intent does not erase impact. Even if the animals were not physically harmed, the perception of distress was enough to cause outrage. Viewers pointed out that animals cannot consent to participation in television stunts and rely entirely on humans to protect their welfare. Any suggestion that an animal was frightened, restrained, or used purely for a laugh was seen as unacceptable.

The backlash also reflects a broader cultural shift. Audiences today are far more attuned to issues of animal welfare than they were even a decade ago. Practices once normalised in entertainment — from circus performances to certain reality TV challenges — are now widely questioned. Viewers expect broadcasters to reflect this evolution, and when they feel that expectation is ignored, the response can be fierce.

ITV’s silence in the immediate aftermath only fuelled the frustration. Many viewers demanded an explanation, apology, or at least reassurance that animal welfare had been prioritised behind the scenes. In the absence of an official response, speculation filled the gap. Some defended the show, arguing that strict regulations would have been followed, while others insisted that compliance with regulations does not automatically make something ethical or appropriate.

A recurring complaint was that the scenes felt unnecessary. Viewers questioned what the inclusion of animals actually added to the programme beyond cheap shock value. Accidental Tourist has traditionally drawn humour from cultural misunderstandings, language barriers, and awkward social situations. Critics argued that leaning on animals for laughs suggested a lack of creative confidence, undermining the show’s original charm.

The emotional tone of the criticism is telling. This was not casual annoyance, but genuine upset. Many viewers described turning the programme off mid-episode, unable to watch further. Others said the scenes stayed with them long after the credits rolled, prompting anger rather than amusement. For a show designed to offer escapism, this reaction represents a significant failure to connect with its audience’s emotional expectations.

Some viewers also raised concerns about the message being sent to younger audiences. Ant and Dec’s programmes are often marketed as family viewing, and parents expressed discomfort at children seeing animals treated as objects of humour. They worried about normalising behaviour that lacks empathy, especially in a media landscape where children already consume vast amounts of content without context.

Defenders of the show have argued that the outrage is overblown, pointing out that television productions are subject to animal welfare guidelines and that no harm would have been permitted. However, critics countered that welfare is not just about preventing physical injury. Stress, fear, and discomfort are equally important considerations, even if they are harder to measure or regulate.

The controversy has reignited debate about the responsibilities of broadcasters in an era of heightened ethical awareness. ITV, as a major public-facing network, is increasingly expected to act as a moral gatekeeper as well as an entertainer. Viewers no longer accept the argument that “it’s just a joke” when the joke involves vulnerable beings.

For Ant and Dec, the backlash is an unusual blemish on otherwise remarkably stable careers. Their longevity has been built on adaptability — an ability to evolve with audience tastes while maintaining a recognisable brand. How they respond, if at all, may determine whether this incident fades quickly or leaves a more lasting dent in viewer trust.

Stephen Mulhern, too, faces scrutiny. While he has often courted controversy through high-energy antics, this situation places him in a different light. Viewers are questioning not his talent, but his judgment, particularly in contexts where boundaries should be more clearly defined. The criticism suggests a desire for presenters to show not just charisma, but ethical awareness.

The intensity of the reaction also highlights how emotionally invested audiences are in animal welfare. Animals occupy a unique place in public consciousness — seen as innocent, defenceless, and deserving of protection. Any perceived exploitation taps into deep-seated values about compassion and responsibility. When entertainment violates those values, even unintentionally, the response is rarely mild.

Interestingly, some long-time fans of the show expressed disappointment rather than outright anger. They described feeling let down by a programme they had previously enjoyed, questioning why it had chosen a direction so at odds with contemporary sensibilities. This sense of betrayal may be more damaging than external criticism, as it comes from viewers who were already invested.

The controversy also raises questions about editorial oversight. Viewers have asked how such scenes made it through production meetings, rehearsals, and final edits without someone flagging potential issues. This points to a possible disconnect between production teams and audience expectations — a gap that broadcasters can ill afford in an age of instant feedback.

Whether ITV will issue a formal response remains to be seen, but the volume of complaints suggests the issue will not simply disappear. Even if the network stands by the programme, the incident may influence how future episodes are produced and edited. At the very least, it serves as a warning that audience tolerance has limits.

Ultimately, the outrage surrounding Ant and Dec’s Accidental Tourist with Stephen Mulhern is about more than one episode or one set of scenes. It reflects a broader demand for ethical consistency in entertainment. Viewers want to laugh, but not at the expense of compassion. They want escapism that aligns with their values, not challenges them in uncomfortable ways.

The phrase repeated across social media — “animal abuse isn’t entertainment” — encapsulates that demand with stark clarity. It is not a nuanced critique, but it is a powerful one. It signals a cultural line that many viewers believe should not be crossed, regardless of intent, tradition, or star power.

As television continues to evolve, moments like this serve as inflection points. They force broadcasters, producers, and presenters to reassess assumptions about what audiences will accept. In this case, the message from viewers is unmistakable: humour that relies on animal discomfort is no longer acceptable, and the backlash will be loud, emotional, and persistent.

Whether ITV and the show’s stars take that message on board will shape not only the future of Accidental Tourist, but also how audiences perceive the network’s values. For now, the anger continues to simmer, fuelled by a sense that something precious — trust, empathy, or simple decency — was overlooked in the pursuit of laughs.

As the initial wave of outrage continues to ripple outward, the controversy surrounding the episode refuses to settle into quiet disappointment. Instead, it deepens into a broader emotional reckoning between viewers and the kind of entertainment they are willing to accept. What might once have been dismissed as a fleeting misjudgment has become a moment of reflection, not just for ITV, but for an audience increasingly conscious of empathy, power, and responsibility. The anger voiced online is not performative; it is rooted in a sense of moral boundary being crossed, and once such a boundary is breached, it cannot be easily forgotten.

For many viewers, the distress did not end when the programme finished. They replayed the scenes in their minds, questioning how something that made them so uncomfortable could have been framed as harmless fun. This lingering unease is significant. Entertainment is meant to be disposable, enjoyed and then left behind. When it lingers in the form of discomfort or guilt, something has gone wrong. Viewers did not simply dislike what they saw; they felt implicated in it by having watched.

That sense of implication fuels much of the anger. Audiences today are acutely aware of their role in sustaining the media they consume. Watching, rating, sharing — these actions have weight. When viewers feel that a programme has crossed an ethical line, continuing to engage with it can feel like complicity. This internal conflict — wanting to enjoy familiar presenters while rejecting the content they front — creates emotional tension that often resolves itself as anger directed outward.

The silence from ITV in the immediate aftermath has become its own source of frustration. In an era where audiences expect rapid acknowledgment, even a holding statement can serve as recognition that concerns are being taken seriously. The absence of such acknowledgment has been interpreted by some as indifference, or worse, dismissal. This perception may not reflect reality, but perception is powerful, especially when emotions are already heightened.

What viewers seem to be asking for is not punishment, but accountability. Many have expressed that a simple acknowledgment — a statement affirming that animal welfare matters and that feedback will be reviewed — would go a long way. The anger is less about demanding cancellation and more about demanding recognition. People want to feel heard, not managed.

The emotional language used by viewers is revealing. Words like “disturbing,” “upsetting,” and “heartbreaking” appear alongside anger. This is not outrage for outrage’s sake; it is distress rooted in empathy. Animals occupy a symbolic space that transcends entertainment. They represent vulnerability, innocence, and the human responsibility to protect rather than exploit. When that symbolism is violated, it strikes at deeply held values.

For many, the disappointment is amplified precisely because of Ant and Dec’s reputations. These are presenters who have long embodied trust, warmth, and a sense of shared national humour. Their programmes often feel like safe spaces — predictable, comforting, and inclusive. Seeing that safety disrupted creates a sense of betrayal that goes beyond simple criticism of a show. It feels personal.

That betrayal is not directed solely at the presenters themselves, but at the wider production ecosystem that allowed the scenes to exist. Viewers are questioning editorial judgment, asking who signed off on the content and why no one intervened. This scrutiny reflects a growing expectation that entertainment should be ethically curated, not just creatively assembled.

Stephen Mulhern’s role in the episode has also become a focal point for emotional debate. While some defend him as simply performing within a format designed by others, others argue that presenters have agency — the ability to push back, question, or refuse to participate in moments that feel wrong. This expectation reflects a shift in how audiences view on-screen talent: not as passive faces, but as moral participants.

The debate has also exposed generational differences in audience perception. Older viewers may recall a time when animals were routinely used in television entertainment without question. Younger viewers, raised amid widespread discussions about animal rights and ethical treatment, often see such portrayals as inherently problematic. The clash between these perspectives adds another layer to the controversy, highlighting how television must navigate an increasingly diverse moral landscape.

What is striking is how quickly the conversation moved beyond the specifics of the episode to broader questions about entertainment ethics. Viewers are asking what comedy should look like now, and whether certain tropes should be retired altogether. The idea that “we’ve always done it this way” holds little weight in a culture that values progress and reflection.

There is also a deeper emotional undercurrent tied to power dynamics. Animals, by definition, cannot consent or advocate for themselves. Using them in situations designed to provoke reactions for human amusement exposes an imbalance that many viewers find deeply uncomfortable. This discomfort mirrors wider societal conversations about exploitation, consent, and accountability, making the backlash feel part of something larger than television.

For some viewers, the episode triggered personal emotions tied to their own relationships with animals. People who see pets as family members found the scenes particularly distressing. The emotional bond many share with animals heightens sensitivity to perceived mistreatment, making such content feel less like entertainment and more like a violation of trust.

As days pass and the outrage continues to simmer, there is a growing sense that this moment will not simply fade. Even if ITV issues a statement or defends the programme’s compliance with regulations, the emotional memory will persist. Viewers may approach future episodes with skepticism, watching not just for humour, but for signs of ethical awareness.

This lingering distrust has potential consequences. Television relies on habit — the comfort of returning week after week. Once that habit is disrupted by discomfort, it can be difficult to restore. Some viewers have already stated they will not watch again unless reassured. Others say they will continue watching, but with diminished enthusiasm. Either way, the relationship has changed.

The controversy also raises uncomfortable questions about how far entertainment should push boundaries. Shock has long been a tool for grabbing attention, but audiences are increasingly discerning about what kind of shock they are willing to tolerate. Shock that punches up — challenging power or convention — is often celebrated. Shock that appears to punch down, especially at the vulnerable, is not.

For ITV, this moment represents a crossroads. The network has an opportunity to demonstrate responsiveness and empathy, reinforcing trust rather than eroding it. How it handles the fallout — whether through dialogue, reflection, or policy review — will signal to viewers what values truly guide its programming decisions.

There is also an opportunity here for growth. Controversies, while uncomfortable, can prompt meaningful change. This episode could become a catalyst for more rigorous ethical review processes, clearer guidelines around animal involvement, and greater sensitivity to audience values. Such outcomes would not erase the distress caused, but they could prevent similar incidents in the future.

Emotionally, viewers are not asking for perfection. They are asking for care. Care in how stories are told, how humour is constructed, and how living beings are treated on screen. This demand reflects a broader cultural desire for kindness and responsibility in public life, especially in spaces meant to provide relief from everyday stress.

As the conversation evolves, it becomes clear that this backlash is not about policing fun or censoring creativity. It is about redefining what fun means in a world where empathy is increasingly central to shared values. Laughter that relies on discomfort — particularly the discomfort of those without a voice — feels hollow to many viewers.

The phrase “animal abuse isn’t entertainment” resonates because it is simple and uncompromising. It does not invite debate so much as draw a line. That line reflects a collective moral stance that many viewers feel strongly about. Crossing it, even unintentionally, carries consequences that cannot be dismissed as oversensitivity.

Ultimately, the emotional impact of this episode lies in its ability to expose the gap between intention and perception. What the programme may have intended as harmless chaos was perceived as something far more troubling. Bridging that gap requires humility — a willingness to listen, acknowledge harm, and adapt.

As time goes on, the anger may soften, but the lesson will remain. Audiences are no longer passive recipients of content; they are active participants in shaping media norms. Their reactions, especially when unified and emotionally charged, carry weight.

Whether Ant and Dec’s Accidental Tourist with Stephen Mulhern recovers fully from this controversy remains uncertain. What is certain is that the episode has left a mark — on viewers, on the conversation around animal welfare in entertainment, and on expectations of what mainstream television should represent.

In the end, this moment is not just about a single show, but about a cultural shift toward greater empathy. Viewers are drawing boundaries not to limit joy, but to redefine it. They want laughter that feels safe, inclusive, and aligned with compassion. And they are increasingly willing to speak out when those expectations are not met.

The outrage may eventually fade from headlines, but the emotional memory will linger. It will shape how viewers watch, how producers plan, and how networks respond. And in that lingering effect lies the true significance of the backlash — not as a fleeting storm, but as a signal of changing values that entertainment can no longer afford to ignore.