In the glittering chaos of a darts-themed game show, where precision meets pandemonium and the line between bullseye and belly laugh blurs, Stephen Bunting proved once again why he’s not just a force on the oche but a full-blown entertainer off it. The St Helens sensation, affectionately known as “The Bullet,” made a star turn on the rebooted ITV classic *Bullseye*—that nostalgic gem of 80s and 90s TV where everyday contestants chase glory, gadgets, and the occasional ton of pub trivia. Airing on a crisp Sunday evening in late November, the episode crackled with energy, hosted by the irrepressible Freddie Flintoff, whose booming laugh and boyish charm set the tone for an hour of high-stakes hilarity. But it was Bunting, the 40-year-old world number four with a trophy cabinet groaning under the weight of majors and a personality that could light up the Alexandra Palace fog, who delivered the night’s unscripted gem: a three-word zinger that left the studio in stitches and social media ablaze.
Picture the scene: the neon-lit boardroom buzzing with three teams of eager punters, their eyes darting between the dartboard and dreams of winning a speedboat or a lifetime supply of cheese graters. Flintoff, ever the mischief-maker, presides over the action like a cheeky uncle at a wedding, tossing in quips and challenges that keep the adrenaline pumping. Bunting, fresh from a blistering 2025 campaign that saw him snag two World Series triumphs in Bahrain and the Nordics—his first European Tour doubles in Germany and Switzerland—lends his darting expertise, guiding contestants through trick shots and offering tips sharper than his trademark checkouts. He’s no stranger to the spotlight; his walk-on to David Guetta’s “Titanium” has become a Premier League ritual, with fans chanting “Let’s go Bunting mental!” in a wave of infectious mania that turns arenas into rock concerts. But this was *Bullseye*, a show born in the era of leg warmers and synth pop, where the prizes are as quirky as the questions, and karaoke lurks around every corner like a mischievous imp.
As the episode hurtled toward its climax, the charity challenge loomed—a segment where the host ropes in the celebrity guest for a spot of spontaneous fun, all in aid of good causes. The crowd, a mix of die-hard darts devotees and families rediscovering the show’s charm, leaned in as Flintoff turned to Bunting with a glint in his eye. “Right, Stephen, fancy a bit of karaoke to seal the deal? Belt out a tune for the teams—give us your best!” The studio held its breath, knowing Bunting’s off-board antics. The lad from Merseyside has built a parallel empire on TikTok and Instagram, where his daft dances, dad jokes, and impromptu sing-alongs rack up millions of views. He’s the guy who once turned a post-match interview into a full-throated rendition of Spandau Ballet’s “Gold,” his voice gravelly with Scouse soul, declaring it his go-to anthem for those rare downtime moments. Karaoke isn’t just a hobby for Bunting; it’s therapy, a way to unwind from the pressure of 180s and double 16s. “I’d say ‘Gold’ by Spandau Ballet,” he’d confessed earlier in the year, his eyes lighting up at the memory of belting it out in smoky Liverpool bars, the kind where the mic’s sticky and the crowd’s forgiving.
But not tonight. As the lights dimmed for dramatic effect and a spotlight swung lazily toward the makeshift stage, Bunting paused, his trademark grin widening into something sly and self-deprecating. The contestants froze mid-cheer, Flintoff raised an eyebrow in mock offense, and the audience sensed a punchline brewing. With the timing of a seasoned comic—and the deadpan delivery that rivals his checkout cool—Bunting fired back: “I’m tone deaf.” Three words, delivered with the precision of a bullseye, that detonated like a nine-darter in a quiet leg. The studio erupted. Flintoff doubled over, slapping his knee in that infectious way that only a former Test cricketer turned TV host can pull off, while the contestants howled, one shouting, “Sing anyway, Bullet!” Bunting just shrugged, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter, turning the rejection into an invitation for the crowd to join in instead. It was peak Bunting: humble, hilarious, and utterly human, transforming a potential awkward moment into a shared joy that underscored why he’s the people’s champion in a sport of brooding behemoths.
This wasn’t Bunting’s first brush with showbiz swagger. Flash back a decade, and the then-BDO world champ was strutting into Lakeside to the absurdly catchy “Surfin’ Bird” by The Trashmen—better known as “The Bird is the Word” from that endless *Family Guy* skit. He’d inked a lucrative deal to adopt it as his walk-on, a move that paid the bills but left him sweating under the spotlight. “The Bird Is The Word, I got paid a lot of money to change my walk on to that,” he’d later admit, chuckling at the memory. “It was all well and good at the time but I was more nervous in thinking more about the walk on than I was about playing. So, it sort of affected my game.” The crowds loved the gag, but Bunting? He craved authenticity. Ditching the novelty for “Titanium”—with its defiant lyrics of resilience (“Shoot me down, but I get up again”)—unleashed the real him: a dad of three who juggles family life with floor-shaking fist pumps, a Liverpool FC die-hard who once teared up over Jürgen Klopp’s exit, and a social media savant whose videos of him “conducting” roaring crowds have gone mega-viral.
*Bulleys*’ revival, now in its first series since the original run ended in 1995, has been a ratings smash, blending retro charm with modern twists. Episodes fly by with segments like the infamous “Treble Chance,” where teams gamble on general knowledge for escalating prizes, and the “Walk of Wealth,” a tense dash to claim spoils. Flintoff’s hosting—peppered with tales from his England glory days—adds a layer of warmth, while guests like Bunting bridge the darts world’s exploding popularity. Since storming to his maiden PDC major at the 2024 Masters, toppling Michael van Gerwen in a final for the ages, Bunting’s star has skyrocketed. He’s hit semi-finals at the Worlds in 2021 and again this year, pocketing seven Pro Tour crowns and raking in prize money that’d make even Phil Taylor blink. Yet, it’s his everyman vibe that endures. “I try and entertain people with my walk-on but when I play I try and keep focused and try and win,” he once shared, his voice laced with that unpretentious Merseyside lilt. “Away from the oche you see me telling jokes, singing in karaoke bars, or on TikTok doing daft things. I’m just a jovial type of person to be honest and that’s one way I can give something back to the fans.”
That joviality shone through on *Bullseye*, where his “tone deaf” quip wasn’t deflection but delight—a nod to his self-awareness in a high-pressure gig. Post-show clips flooded X and TikTok, fans dubbing it “Bunting’s best checkout yet” and remixing it with dartboard sound effects. One viral edit paired it with his “Titanium” entrance, captioning: “When the crowd wants an encore, but you’re saving your voice for the decider.” Even rivals piled on; Luke Humphries, the world champ with whom Bunting’s shared stages in Cologne exhibitions, dropped a heart-eyes emoji, hinting at their budding “double act” of darts and daftness. For Bunting, it’s all fuel. As he eyes the 2026 PDC calendar—more World Series jaunts, Premier League nights, and that elusive world title—he knows the real win is connection. In a sport where arrows fly faster than egos inflate, his three-word wisdom reminds us: sometimes, the sharpest throw is the one that misses on purpose, landing square in the funny bone.
The episode wrapped with Bunting nailing a charity 180, the teams toasting their wins (or consoling their losses with consolation vouchers), and Flintoff vowing a rematch—”next time, we fix those vocal cords, eh?” For now, though, Bunting’s back to the boards, plotting checkouts and chuckling at the chaos. In darts’ grand theater, where every leg’s a story, he’s the narrator we can’t get enough of—tone deaf or not.
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