Declan Donnelly personally funded a 24-hour helpline for mental health — but when a desperate caller called in, his response went viral worldwide…

The helpline received 10,000 calls in its first month. One night, a call came from a man about to give up hope. What Dec said to that man not only saved a life, but changed the way he saw his own struggles forever…👇📞💬

In the quiet hum of a Newcastle evening, Declan Donnelly, one half of Britain’s cherished presenting duo Ant & Dec, sat in his home office, reflecting on a project that had consumed his heart for months. In 2025, Dec had personally funded a 24-hour mental health helpline, a lifeline for those grappling with despair in a world that often felt too heavy. The helpline, named HopeLine UK, was born from Dec’s own experiences with mental health challenges and his desire to give others a safe space to turn to. With an initial £500,000 from his own pocket, he ensured the service would be free, confidential, and staffed by trained counselors round the clock. In its first month, it fielded 10,000 calls—a testament to its need. But one late-night call, and Dec’s unexpected response, would spark a moment that went viral worldwide, reshaping lives and perspectives, including his own.

The idea for HopeLine UK had come to Dec after a candid conversation with a friend who had struggled silently for years. “No one should feel alone in their darkest moments,” he’d said, his voice resolute. He partnered with mental health charities to build the helpline, ensuring it could reach anyone, anywhere, at any time. The service offered not just crisis support but resources for ongoing care, from therapy referrals to community groups. Dec promoted it quietly, avoiding the spotlight, but word spread, and the calls poured in—parents overwhelmed by stress, teenagers battling anxiety, veterans haunted by memories. Each call was a story, and the helpline was saving lives.

One stormy night, as rain battered the windows of the HopeLine call center, a man named Tom dialed the number. At 34, Tom was at his breaking point. A father of two, he’d lost his job during a company downsizing, and the weight of financial strain, coupled with years of untreated depression, had pushed him to the edge. He hadn’t planned to call anyone that night; he hadn’t planned to see the morning. But a radio ad for HopeLine UK caught his ear, and in a fleeting moment of desperation, he dialed.

The call was answered by a counselor named Rachel, whose calm voice steadied Tom’s trembling words. As he poured out his pain—his fear of failing his family, his sense of worthlessness—Rachel listened, guiding him gently. Unbeknownst to Tom, Dec was visiting the call center that night, part of his routine to thank the staff and understand the helpline’s impact. When Rachel flagged the call as critical, Dec, who had been trained in basic crisis support, asked to listen in, ready to assist if needed.

Tom’s voice cracked as he admitted he felt he had nothing left to give. Rachel, following protocol, kept him talking, but Dec, moved by the rawness of Tom’s words, asked to speak directly. “Mate, it’s Dec,” he said, his Geordie accent warm and familiar. Tom, stunned, thought it was a prank at first, but Dec’s sincerity cut through. “I’ve been where you are—not the same, but low, really low,” Dec shared. “I’ve had days where I didn’t think I could go on. But you’re stronger than you know. Your kids, they don’t need a perfect dad—they need you. And you’re enough.”

For 20 minutes, Dec talked with Tom, sharing glimpses of his own struggles with anxiety and the tools that helped him cope—therapy, talking to loved ones, even small rituals like morning walks. He didn’t sugarcoat it; he acknowledged the pain but promised it wasn’t the end. “You called tonight because a part of you wants to fight,” Dec said. “Let’s fight together.” By the end, Tom was crying, but for the first time in months, it was with relief. He agreed to meet a counselor the next day and connect with a local support group.

What Dec didn’t know was that the call had been recorded for training purposes, with Tom’s consent. Days later, a staff member, moved by the exchange, shared a clip online, anonymizing Tom’s voice to protect his privacy. The clip spread like wildfire, with millions watching Dec’s heartfelt words. Social media erupted with #HopeLineUK and #DecSaves, as people shared their own stories of mental health struggles. The helpline’s call volume spiked, and donations poured in, allowing it to expand its staff and services.

But the impact went deeper. Tom, now in therapy and working part-time, wrote an anonymous letter to Dec, shared by the helpline on its website. “You didn’t just save my life,” he wrote. “You made me see I’m worth saving. My kids hug me tighter now, and I’m starting to believe I can be the dad they need.” The letter reached Dec during a live TV special for HopeLine UK, and as he read it aloud, his voice wavered. “This is why we do it,” he said, eyes glistening. “Not for the cameras, but for people like this man, who remind us what hope looks like.”

The viral moment changed Dec, too. He’d always been open about his mental health but had kept much of it private. Talking to Tom forced him to confront his own lingering doubts, reinforcing his belief in vulnerability as strength. He began speaking more openly about his journey, inspiring others to seek help. The helpline grew, opening satellite centers in Manchester and Glasgow, and Dec committed another £1 million to ensure its sustainability.

Years later, at a HopeLine UK fundraiser, a man approached Dec, his children in tow. It was Tom, now thriving, with a steady job and a renewed sense of purpose. His daughter handed Dec a drawing of a phone with a heart around it. “That’s you,” she said, echoing words Dec had once heard in a different context. Dec hugged them, his heart full. The helpline had answered thousands of calls, but that one call, and the words he shared, had sparked a global conversation about mental health, proving that a single voice could light up even the darkest night.