The most unlikely hero of British television this weekend was not a prestige-drama star or a pop sensation. It was Danny Dyer, the former EastEnders hardman, who walked onto the Saturday Night Live UK stage on Saturday night with a reputation for unpredictability and walked off with viewers firmly on his side.
Dyer, 49, hosted the fourth episode of the show's second series on Sky and NOW on October 10, with R&B singer-songwriter Sasha Keable appearing as musical guest. By the time the credits rolled, social media was full of affectionate verdicts. Viewers called him a “national treasure,” while one fan described him as “easily the best host #SNLUK has had so far.” Others went further, arguing that the episode itself may have been the strongest of the British adaptation to date.
A live-TV reputation becomes the opening joke
The booking carried an obvious element of risk, and the show was smart enough to make that the point. Dyer is one of Britain's most recognisable television personalities, but he is also associated with a famously unfiltered live appearance in 2018, when he directed a foul-mouthed insult at then-prime minister David Cameron. The clip has followed him ever since. Instead of trying to ignore that history, Dyer put it at the centre of his opening monologue.
“People don't usually trust me on live TV,” he told the audience, joking that the suspicion was partly classism and partly the memory of that Cameron moment. He then explained that producers had imposed one clear ground rule for the broadcast: he could say almost anything, but there was one particular swear word he must avoid. BuzzDaily is not repeating the word, but the joke did not require it. Dyer treated the restriction like an endurance challenge, insisting that he could manage 75 minutes “cold turkey.”
The premise escalated when his Rivals co-star Lisa McGrillis appeared to challenge him. McGrillis, who acts opposite Dyer in the Disney+ drama, said she believed in him but saw “no chance” that he would complete the show without slipping. She teased that he had used the banned word roughly thirty times before breakfast during their work on Rivals. Dyer responded with a wager — “a pony and a bullseye” — and claimed he did not need swearing anyway, launching into a run of accents to prove his range.
It was an effective opening because it did more than revive a viral moment. The exchange established Dyer as a host prepared to laugh at his own public image, while McGrillis gave the monologue the easy rhythm of two performers who know each other well. That relaxed chemistry carried into the rest of the episode.
Dyer commits to the chaos
Once the sketches began, Dyer did not hold back. He took a starring role in a routine about an ageing boyband and appeared as a bizarre character with a taste for drinking paint. The material was deliberately broad and strange, but his commitment kept the jokes moving. The point was not to make the host look polished; it was to let him throw himself into the show's live, slightly dangerous energy.
He had already warmed up audiences earlier in the week through the programme's midweek sketch, going to elaborate lengths to make cast members Larry Dean and Jack Shep feel at home. During the broadcast he also found space for a joke about his royal ancestry, uncovered during an earlier appearance on the genealogy series Who Do You Think You Are? Dyer told the audience he was “gutted” by the connection and asked: “Who wants to be related to that little mob?”
The reaction suggested that viewers were responding as much to his manner as to any single sketch. Dyer's appeal has always rested on the tension between a tough exterior and a willingness to appear ridiculous, and a live sketch show gave him room to use both. “Ah man, I need Danny Dyer to host #SNLUK again,” one comedy fan wrote on X. “I said it'd be carnage and it was but in the best way. What a guy.”
The latest chapter in a career reinvention
The reception continues a remarkable period in Dyer's career. For millions of viewers he remains Mick Carter, the Queen Vic landlord he played in EastEnders before leaving the BBC soap in 2022. Since then, however, he has built a second act that has changed the way he is regarded as a performer. His work in the Jilly Cooper adaptation Rivals brought critical praise, while his leading role in the sitcom Mr Bigstuff earned him a BAFTA TV Award.
Long before that reinvention, film audiences knew Dyer from cult titles including Human Traffic and The Football Factory. His 2026 film Marching Powder kept him connected to the swaggering screen persona that made him famous, but recent television roles have allowed him to complicate it. Hosting SNL UK brought those strands together: the working-class bravado, the comic timing and the growing confidence to make himself the target of the joke.
SNL UK finds its own voice
Saturday's programme marked the show's return after a one-week break and offered another test of whether the British adaptation can become a fixture of weekend television. The second series launched on September 12 with Jurassic Park star Jeff Goldblum as host and CMAT as musical guest. Comedian Jamie Demetriou and Chicken Shop Date presenter Amelia Dimoldenberg fronted the following two episodes. Dyer's instalment, arriving fourth, appeared to raise expectations for what the format can achieve with the right host.
The remaining lineup keeps the emphasis on distinctive British talent. On October 17, House of the Dragon and Happy Valley star James Norton is scheduled to host with The Streets as musical guest. The series is then due to close on October 24 with Wicked star Cynthia Erivo — an Emmy, Grammy and Tony winner and three-time Oscar nominee — alongside indie rock band Blossoms.
For a format adapted from an American institution, SNL UK has made a point of giving British performers and writers space to sound like themselves. Cast member Hammed Animashaun said before the first series that the programme offered “the opportunity for unsung heroes of comedy, the up-and-coming comedians, to have a chance at reaching the masses.” Hosts such as Dyer help that mission by leaning into the unpredictability of live television rather than trying to make it feel safe.
That may be the episode's most useful lesson. Dyer was not celebrated because he transformed into a conventional sketch-show presenter. He succeeded because the production built around the qualities audiences already associate with him, then gave him enough room to surprise them. The class joke, the live-TV callback and the playful warning about language all acknowledged the baggage before it could become a distraction.
Whether Dyer completed the full 75 minutes without saying the prohibited word is almost beside the point. He arrived willing to be teased, committed to the sketches and left viewers asking for another turn. “National treasure” is one of the most affectionate labels British audiences can bestow. On this evidence, Dyer earned it by doing something deceptively difficult: making live television feel loose, generous and genuinely alive.
