‘Congrats on YOUR brilliant interview,’ spat Susanna 

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 30 

Bumped into Lord Archer at a launch party inside the V&A Museum for Condé Nast magazine chief Nicholas Coleridge’s entertaining new memoir, The Glossy Years. Ironically, I recently made my debut appearance in one of Jeffrey’s massively selling novels, Heads You Win – marching up to an ambassador at a similar party, in the literary equivalent of a name-check in Coronation Street. 

Archer, like Coleridge, is blessed with a very happy and enduring marriage, one that’s now lasted 53 years despite many turbulent tests, including his prison incarceration. ‘Has Mary ever contemplated divorcing you?’ I asked. ‘Never,’ he replied. Then he chuckled. ‘She’s contemplated murdering me a few times, but never divorce…’ 

GMB landed the first TV interview with Jennifer Arcuri. Ms Arcuri swatted away all questions about a romance the PM by repeatedly saying she was neither confirming nor denying the allegations. There’s no denying she’s a whip-smart, hugely charismatic young woman

MONDAY, OCTOBER 7 

Good Morning Britain landed the first TV interview with Jennifer Arcuri, the lively buxom American lady who used to discuss technology affairs with Boris Johnson at her pole-adorned home. 

For more than an hour, Susanna Reid and I grilled her about the exact nature of their friendship, and whether it allegedly could have played a part in all the public money she received while Boris was London Mayor, but Ms Arcuri swatted away all questions about a romance by repeatedly saying she was neither confirming nor denying the allegations. 

Viewers could make their own minds up about what her endless non-denials meant – I certainly did! – but there’s no denying she’s a whip-smart, hugely charismatic young woman. Jennifer revealed she and Boris first bonded over a shared love of French philosopher Voltaire, of whom I’m also a big fan. After the show ended, I asked her which particular Voltaire work had drawn the pair of them together. 

‘Candide,’ she answered. 

Of course! This magnificent book tells the tale of a highly privileged man schooled to believe ‘all is for the best in this best of all possible worlds’ but who is then plunged into a world of unimaginable horrors and disasters. So far, so Boris. 

Beleagured Candide eventually finds peace living the simple life on a small farm where he discovers the secret of happiness is to ‘cultivate one’s garden’. 

Hmm. I can’t really see Boris being satisfied just tending to his prize begonias… or wait, is that where Jennifer comes back in? 

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 8 

Our Arcuri interview dominated the papers and TV news today, although many of the reports referred to it as ‘Piers Morgan’s interview’ despite Susanna doing at least half the questions in her usual expert manner. 

This kind of lazy sexism rightly enrages her. ‘Congratulations on YOUR brilliant interview,’ Susanna spat when I arrived for our 5am pre-show meeting. 

‘Thank you,’ I laughed, ‘I thought I really nailed it.’ 

‘Yes, YOU did,’ she seethed. ‘I don’t know why we don’t just call this the Piers Morgan Show and be done with it?’ 

‘Great idea,’ I replied. 

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 10 

A friend of mine found himself sitting with Victoria Beckham at an event in Dubai this evening, and sent me this summary of part of their conversation: 

VB: ‘Is it true you know Piers Morgan?’ 

Friend: ‘Yes.’ 

VB: ‘Can you send him a message from me?’ 

Friend: ‘Yes.’ 

VB: ‘Tell him he’s a ****.’ 

Friend: ‘Will do.’ 

Half an hour later, Victoria returned to the subject: 

VB: ‘Actually, don’t send that message.’ 

Friend: ‘Why not?’ 

VB: ‘Because it will make him happy.’ 

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 11 

Have I Got News For You naturally covered the Jennifer Arcuri interview, and Ian Hislop began by saying: ‘She went on the Piers Morgan Show…’ 

I guffawed and promptly tweeted the clip, copying in Susanna. ‘I’m not coming in Monday,’ she responded tersely. ‘Doesn’t sound like anyone would notice,’ I retorted. 

There’s just one problem with the new title: it would abbreviate down to PMS. 

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 12 

Sexism works both ways in the media. The new cover of Radio Times features five TV news journalists with the headline: ‘Meet Britain’s busiest broadcasters’. 

I was curious to see whose work ethic surpasses all others in my profession. 

The answer was Julie Etchingham, Emma Barnett, Mishal Husain, Cathy Newman and Fiona Bruce. 

A friend of mine found himself sitting with Victoria Beckham at an event in Dubai this evening, and sent me this summary of part of their conversation: VB: ‘Is it true you know Piers Morgan?’ Friend: ‘Yes.’ VB: ‘Can you send him a message from me?’ Friend: ‘Yes.’ VB: ‘Tell him he’s a ****.’

A friend of mine found himself sitting with Victoria Beckham at an event in Dubai this evening, and sent me this summary of part of their conversation: VB: ‘Is it true you know Piers Morgan?’ Friend: ‘Yes.’ VB: ‘Can you send him a message from me?’ Friend: ‘Yes.’ VB: ‘Tell him he’s a ****.’

So, five women. 

Not to cast any aspersions on these very talented ladies, who I’m sure all work very hard, but just imagine the feminist outrage if Radio Times had stuck five men on its cover with the same headline? 

MONDAY, OCTOBER 14 

I have many random irritations on GMB but few match the chalkboard-scratching early morning over-exuberance of our competitions man Andi Peters, usually delivered from some glamorous sun-kissed beach. 

In fact, the only thing that comes close is the annoyingly massive brain of our know-it-all meteorologist Laura Tobin, especially about her specialist subject, the weather. 

So you can imagine my joy this morning when I told Peters I was – genuinely – sending him to Outer Mongolia (the show’s editors had invited Susanna and me to choose a surprise location for him, and sadly my first suggestion of ‘crocodile-infested river in the Amazon rainforest’ was rejected). 

But that joy turned to ecstasy when I asked Laura what the weather was like in the world’s most forebidding wasteland and she replied: ‘It’s currently minus 11 degrees Celsius.’ 

‘What’s that in Fahrenheit?’ I asked. 

She paused. 

Then a forlorn look appeared on her tortured face. ‘I… I… don’t know,’ she eventually stammered. 

Perma-Grin and Smarty-Pants wiped out in the same five seconds. Glorious.

 

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