Anthony McPartlin & Declan Donnelly gifted 100 bicycles to underprivileged kids in northeast England — but what touched everyone was that they personally restored each bike in Dec’s dad’s old garage…
As part of their “Pedal with Pride” campaign, Ant & Dec bought 100 used bikes and spent weeks restoring them with volunteers in Declan’s father’s old garage in Newcastle. At a schoolyard Christmas event, the kids received the bikes—from Santa Ant and Elf Dec.
Pedal with Pride: The Christmas Bikes
In the heart of Newcastle upon Tyne, where winter winds whip through narrow streets and dreams can feel like luxuries, an old garage stood as a testament to hard work and family. Once the domain of Declan Donnelly’s father, it was a place of grease-stained floors and cherished memories. In the winter of 2025, that garage became a beacon of hope, thanks to Ant McPartlin and Declan Donnelly—Ant & Dec—the hometown heroes who never forgot where they came from.
Through their “Pedal with Pride” campaign, Ant and Dec set out to bring joy to 100 underprivileged kids in northeast England. They didn’t just donate money or buy shiny new bikes. Instead, they purchased 100 used bicycles—rusted, creaky, and worn—and committed to restoring each one by hand. The project took root in Dec’s dad’s old garage, a place that held sentimental weight for Dec, filled with echoes of his father’s tinkering days. For weeks, Ant and Dec worked alongside a team of local volunteers—neighbors, mechanics, and friends—transforming the dilapidated bikes into treasures.
The garage buzzed with purpose. Ant, with his infectious grin, wrestled with stubborn bolts, often ending up with more grease on his face than on the bikes. Dec, quieter but focused, meticulously polished frames, his hands steady from years of watching his dad. The volunteers brought their own energy, swapping stories of their own childhood rides as they sanded rust and tightened chains. Each bike was a canvas: a dented frame painted bright red, a wobbly wheel made smooth, a bell added to sing with every turn. They worked late into the chilly nights, fueled by tea and a shared mission to give kids a taste of freedom.
The plan culminated in a Christmas event at St. Joseph’s Primary, a school in one of Newcastle’s roughest neighborhoods, where kids faced challenges most could only imagine. Ant and Dec wanted the moment to sparkle with magic, so they arrived as Santa Ant and Elf Dec, their costumes delightfully absurd. On a snowy December morning, the schoolyard glowed with fairy lights and the scent of hot cocoa. The kids, wrapped in scarves and mittens, had no idea what was coming.
When the sleigh—a decorated trailer pulled by a van—rolled in, the children’s cheers shook the air. Ant, his Santa beard slipping, and Dec, wrestling with an oversized elf hat, stepped out to a wave of laughter. Behind them, volunteers unveiled 100 bikes, each gleaming with fresh paint and ribbons, tagged with a child’s name. The kids’ eyes widened, their whispers turning to gasps. A boy named Tom touched a blue bike, hardly believing it was his. A girl named Maya ran her fingers over a yellow frame, her smile brighter than the snow.
Ant took the microphone, his voice cutting through the cold. “These bikes aren’t just things,” he said. “We fixed ‘em up ourselves, in Dec’s dad’s garage, with a lot of help from some brilliant people. We wanted you to have something that’s yours, something to take you places—maybe even to your dreams.”
Dec, adjusting his elf hat, added, “This garage was my dad’s special place. Now it’s part of your story. Ride these bikes, explore, have fun. You’re unstoppable.”
The crowd fell quiet, the weight of their effort sinking in. It wasn’t the bikes’ shine that moved people—it was the image of Ant and Dec, famous yet grounded, spending weeks in a dusty garage to make each bike perfect. Parents wiped tears, teachers exchanged looks of awe, and the kids clutched their handlebars like lifelines. The volunteers, too, felt the impact; they’d seen the duo’s dedication, their refusal to take shortcuts.
The schoolyard became a carnival. Kids pedaled in joyful chaos, weaving through cones, ringing bells, and shouting with glee. Ant and Dec jumped in, racing kids on spare bikes, their costumes flapping as they laughed. A mother watching her daughter ride for the first time whispered, “They’ve given her wings.” A father, whose son had never owned anything new, choked up as he saw him speed across the yard.
The bikes were more than transport. For kids trapped by circumstance, they were freedom—chances to ride to the park, visit friends, or just feel the wind. The “Pedal with Pride” campaign sparked a ripple effect. The garage became a community workshop, teaching kids bike maintenance. A cycling club formed, with group rides after school. Local shops donated helmets, and the bikes became symbols of possibility.
Years later, the story lived on. Some kids rode those bikes to their first jobs; others passed them to younger siblings. In the garage, a photo captured Ant and Dec, grease-streaked and proud, surrounded by bikes. The true gift wasn’t the bicycles—it was the love poured into them, the hours spent making something old new again, and the message that every child deserved a chance to soar. In that snowy schoolyard, Santa Ant and Elf Dec didn’t just deliver bikes; they delivered hope, one pedal at a time.
