In the electrifying world of professional darts, where precision meets unyielding pressure, an unexpected contender is stepping into the spotlight. Morgan Burtwistle, better known to millions as the fiery YouTuber Angry Ginge, is contemplating a dramatic pivot from streaming stardom to the oche. Fresh off his triumph as King of the Jungle on I’m A Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here!, the 24-year-old Manchester lad has his sights set on one of the sport’s most grueling proving grounds: Q School.
For the uninitiated, Q School is the PDC’s unforgiving gateway to glory. Held annually just after the World Darts Championship in venues like Milton Keynes and Kalkar, Germany, it draws hundreds of hopefuls willing to fork over a £475 entry fee for a shot at one of the coveted two-year Tour Cards—only 29 were available this year. It’s a battlefield where dreams are forged or shattered in high-stakes matches against seasoned pros and hungry amateurs alike. Recent success stories include bricklayer Charlie Manby, who parlayed a stunning last-16 run at the Worlds into a Tour Card after battling past players like Ricky Evans, and former world number four Mervyn King, who clawed his way back from bankruptcy. Even retired legend Steve Beaton made a comeback bid but fell short, underscoring the event’s brutal competitiveness.
What makes Angry Ginge’s potential entry all the more intriguing is his unlikely camaraderie with darts’ teenage phenom, Luke Littler—”The Nuke”—the two-time world champion who’s redefining the sport. Ginge has been a fixture in Littler’s corner, cheering wildly from the Ally Pally stands during his triumphant title defense. The duo’s bond extends beyond spectatorship; they’ve squared off in casual showdowns captured on video, where Ginge has held his own remarkably well. “Luke’s said I’m actually quite decent,” Ginge revealed with a mix of pride and humility. He’s taken legs off the prodigy multiple times, coming agonizingly close to an outright victory early last year by missing just one dart at double. Those nail-biting encounters, shared with fans online, have fueled Ginge’s growing fascination with the game.
During a candid chat on talkSPORT’s Hawksbee and Jacobs show, Ginge laid bare his ambitions—and his realism. “I don’t think I’ve got a chance [of making it through Q School], to be totally honest with you,” he admitted. “But Q School, more for the experience. What harm can it do? Just go there, see what it’s about, enjoy it and take it in.” He’s not delusional about the odds; full-time pros would likely dismantle him. “I’m not going to rock up and think I’ve got a chance. I’ll rock up, I probably won’t even win a game, never mind a leg.” Yet, beneath the self-deprecation burns a spark of defiance. Self-assessing as “half-decent for the amount I play,” Ginge envisions a future where dedication could bridge the gap. “If I ever wanted to, in a few years, lock in and practice for four, five hours a day, you never know. Nothing’s impossible.”
This isn’t mere bravado. Ginge has already dipped his toes into the spotlight at Alexandra Palace, joining influencers like Pieface and Bambino Becky for Sky Sports’ Walk-On Experience during the Worlds. Dressed in his custom darts shirt and quirky Lightning McQueen Crocs, he strode confidently into Littler’s domain, three darts in hand, embracing the roar of the crowd. The pressure cooker of elite darts appeals to him precisely because it tests mettle. As he put it elsewhere, “The more pressure you’re under, the more you get used to it. In darts, your hands are shaking and everything. Darts is mainly about who’s got the biggest bottle.”
Littler’s endorsement adds legitimacy to the hype. The world champ believes his mate could “do some damage at the oche,” a vote of confidence from someone who’s faced—and conquered—the planet’s best. Ex-pro Matt Edgar echoes the excitement, arguing Ginge’s involvement could be “good for the game.” Averaging around 55 now, with talk of ramping up to three-hour daily sessions, Ginge represents an accessible entry point. His journey could inspire newcomers, proving darts isn’t just for lifelong grinders but anyone willing to commit. “It’d show people that it’s a potential avenue, and it’s an actual journey,” Edgar noted.
Of course, not everyone’s on board. Whispers in the darts community, including pointed jabs from veterans like Gary Anderson about “rank” influencers cluttering the sport, highlight the skepticism. But Ginge’s retort is simple: pay the fee, grab the darts, and let the board decide. Whether he flames out in the first round or sparks a viral sensation come 2027, his audacious bid promises to inject fresh energy into a sport already buzzing from Littler’s dominance.
As Ginge sums it up with trademark grit, “We’ll just see what happens, see what it’s about. You never know, in a few years I might lock in and try.” In the high-stakes theater of darts, where underdogs occasionally topple giants, that’s a storyline no one can resist. Nothing’s impossible—especially when the camera’s rolling and the crowd’s chanting your name.
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