Anthony McPartlin and Declan Donnelly cancelled their BAFTA appearance last minute — but the reason why involved a sick fan, a midnight flight, and one final promise kept…
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They were all set to present on stage — until they got a call from the parents of 10-year-old Danny, a superfan in hospice care. Within hours, Ant & Dec were on a red-eye to Glasgow. What they brought with them — and what they whispered to Danny that night — stunned the nurses…👇

The Promise of a Lifetime

In the glittering world of London’s BAFTA awards in May 2025, Anthony McPartlin and Declan Donnelly were set to shine. At 49, the beloved duo, known as Ant and Dec, were slated to present a major award, their infectious humor and warmth a highlight of the night. But as they prepared for the red carpet, a phone call changed everything, leading them on a journey that would touch hearts far beyond the spotlight.

The call came from Glasgow, from the parents of 10-year-old Danny Wilson, a superfan battling leukemia in hospice care. Danny had grown up watching Ant & Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway, his laughter filling the hospital room even on his toughest days. Months earlier, during a charity event, Ant and Dec had met Danny via video call, promising to visit him in person “when we’re up in Glasgow, mate.” Danny’s condition had worsened, and his parents, Emma and Tom, reached out in desperation. “He’s fading,” Emma said, her voice breaking. “He keeps asking for you both. He says you’re his best mates.”

Ant and Dec didn’t hesitate. The BAFTA stage could wait—this promise couldn’t. Within hours, they canceled their appearance, citing “personal reasons,” and booked a midnight flight to Glasgow. They packed a special gift for Danny: a custom-made scrapbook filled with photos from their shows, fan messages collected from social media, and a handwritten letter from the duo. They also brought a portable projector to screen a never-before-seen Saturday Night Takeaway clip, recorded just for Danny, where they performed his favorite skit—a silly dance routine he’d once said made him “laugh until my tummy hurt.”

They arrived at the Glasgow hospice at 2 a.m., the city quiet under a starry sky. The nurses, stunned to see TV’s biggest stars walk in, led them to Danny’s room. The boy, frail but awake, lay surrounded by cards and a stuffed bear wearing a tiny Ant & Dec T-shirt. His parents stood by, tears in their eyes. Ant knelt beside Danny, his voice soft. “Hey, mate, your best pals are here.” Dec, holding the scrapbook, grinned. “We promised we’d come, didn’t we?”

Danny’s face lit up, a spark of joy breaking through his pain. “You really came,” he whispered, his voice weak but full of wonder. Ant and Dec sat on either side of his bed, showing him the scrapbook. They turned its pages slowly, describing each photo—Ant in a chicken costume, Dec covered in slime—making Danny giggle despite his exhaustion. The nurses watched, some wiping tears, as the duo’s warmth filled the room. Then, they set up the projector, and Danny’s eyes widened as the familiar Takeaway theme played. In the clip, Ant and Dec danced, shouted his name, and said, “Danny, you’re the real star tonight!”

As the clip ended, Ant leaned close, whispering, “You’re the bravest lad we know, Danny. You’ve made us laugh, and we’ll never forget you.” Dec added, “You’re part of our show forever, mate.” They gave him the scrapbook, its final page a promise: “To Danny, our hero. We’ll always be your pals. Love, Ant & Dec.” Danny clutched it, his small hands trembling, and whispered, “I love you guys.”

The nurses, standing in the doorway, were speechless. One later said, “I’ve never seen a room so full of love. They didn’t just visit—they gave him everything.” Ant and Dec stayed until dawn, chatting with Danny and his parents, sharing stories, and laughing until Danny fell asleep, a smile on his face. Before leaving, they hugged Emma and Tom, promising to check in. “He’s our boy now, too,” Dec said, his voice thick.

The BAFTA absence sparked rumors, but the truth emerged when a nurse shared the story online, with Emma’s permission. A photo of Danny holding the scrapbook, Ant and Dec by his side, went viral. Fans flooded social media: “Ant & Dec skipped BAFTA for a dying boy,” “Crying for Danny,” “This is why they’re legends.” The post racked up millions of views, with messages pouring in from across the globe. “They gave a kid his final wish,” one fan wrote. “That’s real stardom.”

Danny passed away a week later, the scrapbook by his side. At his memorial, Emma shared how those hours with Ant and Dec gave Danny peace, a moment of pure joy in his final days. The hospice created a “Danny’s Corner” in its library, displaying the scrapbook and a photo of the visit, inspiring other patients. Ant and Dec, quietly grieving, sent flowers and a note: “For Danny, our brightest star.”

The story became a touchstone for fans, a reminder of the duo’s heart. At the next Saturday Night Takeaway, they dedicated the show to Danny, airing a tribute with his favorite skit. The audience sobbed, then cheered, as Ant said, “This one’s for you, Danny, wherever you are.” Dec added, “You taught us what matters most.” The episode broke ratings records, with viewers calling it “the most beautiful TV moment ever.”

In Gateshead, Danny’s parents started a charity in his name, funded partly by donations inspired by Ant and Dec’s visit. The duo quietly supported it, attending a fundraiser a year later where kids read messages thanking them for Danny’s night. Emma hugged them, saying, “You gave him a lifetime in those hours.”

Years later, a letter arrived from a teenager who’d seen Danny’s story. “You showed me kindness changes everything,” she wrote. “I’m studying to be a nurse because of Danny.” Ant and Dec read it backstage, eyes misty, knowing that some promises—kept in the quiet of a hospice room—are worth more than any award.