Ooh! What a Lovely Pair Our Story (40 page)

Cannon and Ball were also in camp that year. It was the first time we’d really had a double act in there, which was great for our links, but a scary glimpse into what the future might hold. The last time we’d seen Tommy and Bobby was about ten years earlier, when the four of us were all on the same episode of
Noel’s House Party
– they were the star guests and we… weren’t. We were still PJ and Duncan and were playing the Crinkly Bottom paperboys. Now, all these years later, they were down in the jungle,
while we were the hosts of the show. The saddest moment was when Tommy was voted out first – him and Bobby seemed a bit lost without each other. You know what double acts are like, they can be pathetically inseparable – some of them even write their autobiographies together.

We got back home just in time for Christmas, which we celebrated in the only way we knew how – by making a TV show. It was the first and only Christmas special of
Saturday Night Takeaway
, and the guest list was fantastic – Little Ant and Dec came back to interview Matt Lucas and David Walliams, we did a sketch with Ricky Gervais, and a massive musical number with Robbie Williams.

I still think the number with Robbie is one of the best things we’ve ever done – it involved him singing ‘White Christmas’, while we, and a huge male choir, kept interrupting him with vocals that were actually more fronting than backing. It was quite a complicated little piece. In fact, we were a bit worried at first that it was a little too complicated for Robbie. When you rehearse with him, he can seem like he isn’t listening or paying any attention, but the reality is that he’s taking it all in, and on the night, he was, of course, brilliant. He’s a complete all-rounder – he can sing, he can dance, he can do sketches and he can act.

He makes me sick.

Chapter 37

Talking of all-rounders like Robbie Williams, 2006 was the year we approached our career as if it were a tapas menu: we tried a little bit of everything. And first on our list was the nationwide release of
Alien Autopsy.
One of the best things about your own feature film coming out is that you get to go to your own premiere. After all, we’d have looked pretty stupid if we’d paid to go and see
Alien Autopsy
at our local Odeon.

Unless, I dunno, one of us went in disguise, so they could listen to what people were saying about it…

You didn’t?

Let’s just get on with the premieres, shall we? Being greedy, we were given not one, not two, but three premieres. Over three nights, we had one in Leicester Square, one in Dublin and one in Newcastle – and, incredibly, Warner Brothers gave us a private jet to travel around in. Yes, really, they gave us a private jet. To think that the first vehicle we ever travelled around in was my MG Metro Turbo and now we were in a private jet. Nothing makes you feel more like a film star – not even being in a film – than travelling in a private jet.

The Leicester Square premiere was amazing, and Warners’ even put us up at the very posh Claridges Hotel for the night. Chiswick is only eight miles away from central London, so don’t ask me why we got a hotel, but I certainly wasn’t complaining. I told them they could’ve saved their money and just had the jet fly me back home and land in my back garden, but apparently that’s ‘against aviation laws’ or something – spoil-sports. When we were ready to leave Claridges, we said to our publicist, ‘We just can’t wait to get out on the red carpet’ and our publicist said, ‘Er, actually, it’s not a red carpet, it’s a green carpet – you know, ’cos of the aliens?’ We were both a bit disappointed – we might only ever have one film premiere in our lives and we’d hoped for a red carpet. Still, you can’t have everything, can you?

The whole evening was unforgettable. Tom Cruise may be famous for spending hours with the crowds and talking to everyone, but we out-Cruised Tom that night. We spent about two and a half hours with the crowds – we spoke to people’s mams on their phones, we posed for pictures, signed autographs, we did the lot. In fact, they had to delay the start of the screening, because we were still doing radio interviews in the foyer of the cinema.

All our friends came to see the film and, afterwards, a lot of them had the same reaction, which was ‘It’s a proper film, isn’t it?’ I don’t know if they were expecting something with sock puppets filmed in Ant’s kitchen, but they seemed genuinely surprised by it.

The last time we’d been to a premiere in Newcastle was in 1993, to see our last series of
Byker Grove
at the Civic Centre and, now, thirteen years later, we were at the premiere of our own film in our hometown. We couldn’t resist going to Top Shop to buy a new shirt and then covering ourselves in aftershave, just for old times’ sake.

The whole Donnelly clan came that night. My sisters spent months wondering what to wear, skipping dessert so they would fit into their new dresses and planning every last detail. The whole thing was perfect – apart from one moment during the film. I was sat in the front row in between my mam and dad when it suddenly dawned on me: I had completely forgotten that, halfway through
Alien Autopsy
, there’s a bit of a racy scene with me and Amber Fuentes, the sexy TV reporter played by Nicole Hiltz. And to make matters worse, you don’t see any of the ‘raciness’, you just hear it. And it’s loud. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought about this before, but it would be fine, I tried to tell myself, you’re a fully grown man, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s only acting after all. I failed to convince myself. Just before it came on, I felt myself getting hotter and hotter, and I slunk down into my seat. It was the same feeling you get when you’re twelve years old, sat in the front room with your parents, and a sex scene comes on the telly. I blushed like I’ve never blushed before. I’m glad the lights were dimmed.

My mam, Davey, Sarha, Robbie and Emma were all there and, of course Boppa, Athey and Goody – although Boppa left about halfway through. When I asked him why, he just looked at me and said, ‘It’s not really my kind of thing.’ You can always rely on your mates to keep you grounded, can’t you?

It might not have been Boppa’s ‘kind of thing’, but he still came to the party and drank the free beer afterwards, which was good of him. Me and Dec used to co-own a bar in Newcastle, the Lodge, so we had the party there. Even though it was less than a mile away, we tried to get the private jet to take us there from the cinema to our bar, but the pilot refused – ‘aviation laws’ again. Unbelievable.

As for the Dublin premiere, it was amazing, emotional and we were very proud. At least that’s what we’ve been told, I can’t remember anything about it – three days of partying had taken its toll by then.

Once the premieres were over and the film was being shown in cinemas, one of the most exciting moments was when the trailers for it started running on telly – seeing your name and your film advertised on TV for the first time is a really special thrill.

Speak for yourself. I was at home one day and the trailer came on TV for the very first time. I was out of the room, and Lisa screamed, ‘It’s on! It’s on!’ I ran in, sat next to her on the settee and cranked the volume right up. It looked brilliant – it had that gravel-voiced American bloke doing the voiceover, it was edited really well and me and Lisa just looked at each
other and smiled. Our smiles froze when, at the end of the trailer, the gravel-voiced American man said, ‘
Alien Autopsy
– starring Declan Donnelly and Anthony McFarland’. I rewound it on Sky Plus two or three times to check, but my ears weren’t playing tricks on me, he’d said McFarland, not McPartlin. They’d got my name wrong, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that my surname is definitely McPartlin. I was stunned – the first trailer for my first film and they’d got my name wrong.

We got in touch with Warner Brothers, and they changed it immediately, but not before it had caused me plenty of embarrassment. Call me old-fashioned, but I thought they should get my name right. You don’t see trailers saying, ‘Starring Brad Pott’ or ‘Featuring Julia Rabbits’, do you?

The reaction to
Alien Autopsy
was what people in the industry called ‘mixed’. There were a few critics who didn’t like it, but most people we spoke to thought it was a decent film. We actually got a bigger response from the public when it was shown on Sky Movies a year or so later. Although we had our ups and downs making it, it’s still something we’re both very proud of and, if the right script came along, we’d definitely do a film again.

One thing I will never, ever do again, though, is try and help out with a baby shower. In 2006, Jonny Wilkes and his wife Nikki were expecting their first child, and Lisa was hosting a baby shower at her and Ant’s house for Nikki and a load of her friends. They’d made a ‘No Men Allowed’ rule, which was perfect, ’cos me, Ant and Jonny could go to the pub but, before we did, we tried to prove we weren’t totally useless by giving Lisa a hand with the food. Despite my dodgy record with sandwiches and knives, Lisa asked me to cut the crusts off the sandwiches and then take the crusts out to the garden and break them into pieces for the birds. I managed to finish the first bit – cutting off the crusts – without any problem, and then I took the plate out into the garden. While I was out there, I got distracted, went back in and got chatting to Ant and Lisa.

Half an hour or so later, the boys headed to the pub and left the girls to their baby shower. We had a nice long session and then headed back to Ant’s to feast on what was left of the sausage rolls and bowls of Wotsits, but the moment we set foot in the house, we knew we were in trouble – Lisa had a face like thunder. It transpired that, just at the climax of the baby shower, when all the girls had gathered in the conservatory and Nikki was being given all her presents, one of them happened to glance out of the window and let out a massive scream. They all looked at her, shocked, and she shouted at the top of her voice,

‘A rat! There’s a rat on the table!’

All the girls spun round to look out of the window, and there was the biggest, fattest rat you’ve ever seen, happily tucking into the plate of sandwich crusts. Lisa was mortified, and Ant and me were thrown out of the house for the second time that day.

It wasn’t just because we were in the doghouse or, more accurately, the rat-house with Lisa, but shortly after that rodent left my garden, we went up to Newcastle, because we’d been invited to Alan Shearer’s testimonial. Ever since we started going to the match together on Boxing Day 1990, we’ve had quite a history with Newcastle United fans. When we were on
Byker Grove,
we used to go to the match, and we’d often get stick although, to be fair, it did vary. Some days you’d be surrounded by people who gave you a bit of abuse, and then other times, you’d have people pat you on the back and say, ‘Well done, son, good for you,’ with that sense of Geordie pride that makes us so, well, proud. As we’ve had a bit more success, the ridicule has decreased and the pride has increased, which has made going to the match a much nicer experience.

In the summer of 2001, we went to a testimonial for Robert Lee, one of the best players ever to pull on a black and white shirt, and we were lucky enough to be sat in the director’s box. The game was a bit quiet and, one by one, people on the terraces spotted us. Before we knew it, the whole stand was singing ‘Let’s Get Ready to Rhumble’ followed by a chorus of ‘Wonkey Donkey, Wonkey Donkey’. It was genuinely one of the proudest moments of my life. Plus, it was much better than ‘What are you doing messing about on
Byker Grove,
you little poof?’

Alan Shearer is a god in Newcastle. We’d been asked to go on and interview the great man in the centre circle after the game had finished and, of course, we accepted straight away, because it felt like such an honour for us. It was a huge night for the city – the stadium was packed and, with Celtic as the opposition, the decibel levels in the ground couldn’t have been higher. It was being televised, and anyone who’s anyone in Newcastle was there, including Jimmy Nail, Sir Bobby Robson, Gazza and Brian Johnson, the lead singer of AC/ DC. After the final whistle, we stood at the side of the pitch, ready to walk on to the hallowed turf of the best football stadium in the world. To a standing ovation, Alan did a lap of honour with his kids, finished at the dug-out, took his seat, and then it was over to us.

This was it, our big moment. We started walking towards the centre circle, and the sound of an announcement on the Tannoy echoed round the stadium:

‘
Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Ant and Dec!’

The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up as we arrived at the centre circle to warm applause. I lifted up my microphone, ready to speak but, before I could say a word, a chant directed at us began to swell from the Gallowgate end – the very end we’d stood together in back in 1990. It quickly gathered momentum and made its way round the ground. We tried to work out exactly what they were saying, it didn’t sound like ‘There’s only one Ant and Dec’ or ‘Stand up if you love Ant and Dec’, or ‘Walking in an Ant and Dec wonderland’, and then, finally, their words were clearly audible to everybody there and the TV audience at home:

‘Who are ya? Who are ya? Who are ya?’

It was brilliant – it was proper terrace wit, and there was no clever response to it: we just had to stand there and take it. Alan Shearer was sat in the dug-out laughing his head off, and it was a uniquely Geordie way of making sure we kept our feet on the ground. Even though there were 52,000 people ridiculing us, I felt strangely proud.