WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5
To GQ’s Men of The Year Awards, which has miraculously survived the gender-neutral and #MeToo movements without someone furiously demanding it be renamed ‘Person of the Year Awards.’
I was placed pleasingly near the stage. (GQ editor Dylan Jones’ seat allocation reflects one’s current standing in celebrity society; the worse you’ve behaved in the previous 12 months, the nearer the action you’re likely to be put.)
My two wives – the real one, Celia, and the TV one, Susanna Reid – were either side of me. ‘How on earth do you put up with him?’ they both exclaimed, in disturbingly cohesive unison.
My two wives – the real one, Celia, and the TV one, Susanna Reid – were either side of me. ‘How on earth do you put up with him?’ they both exclaimed, in disturbingly cohesive unison
Others on our table included actress Kate Beckinsale, firebrand activist Rose McGowan (with her exotically named partner Rain Dove), and McMafia star James Norton.
Kate had sparked red carpet pandemonium with her flesh-revealing Julien McDonald floral dress. ‘It was SO windy out there, I fear I may have revealed a little TOO much…’ she giggled. ‘I just hope nobody saw my ******!’
The waiter serving her starter nearly dropped his plates. ‘Piers,’ she added, with a slight purr, ‘I must say, I love going to bed with you every night.’
The waiter stumbled again. ‘I mean, I watch Good Morning Britain from my home in Los Angeles, where it airs at 10pm.’
The first award winner was Prince Charles, who strode in right past our table. ‘Congratulations, Sir!’ I bellowed sycophantically, prompting him to glance over and smirk.
‘That’s the knighthood sorted,’ I whispered to Susanna.
After his hilarious speech (‘I’m going to use this award to hit a burglar’), Charles stopped as he passed by our table again.
I held my hand out for the royal seal of approval, only for him to completely ignore me and instead warmly greet Susanna, saying: ‘I do hope you have a LOVELY dinner.’
She turned to me, her eyes combusting with uncontrollably smug delight, but said absolutely nothing. Words were superfluous.
When Paul Weller received his award for Songwriter of the Year, I informed the table he was my teenage musical hero. ‘Sadly,’ I sighed, ‘the hero-worship is not mutual.’
‘He’s not a fan?’ asked Kate. I pulled out my iPhone, Googled a recent Q magazine article headlined ‘Paul Weller: I’m not going to go on Piers Morgan’s Life Stories and talk to that ****’.
‘Ah. I see,’ she replied, exploding with laughter. ‘Well why don’t you storm the stage and call HIM a ****?’
John Legend, my current favourite musician, performed a sensational version of All Of Me. Unfortunately, wherever he goes, so does his insufferably annoying wife Chrissy Teigen, a gobby former swimsuit model who rides on his glorious coat-tails like a bee stuck to a lion’s backside.
‘We all know who the headliner in our family is,’ cooed John as they stood together on stage, ‘I am Chrissy Teigen’s husband!’ No, John. You’re a Legend, she’s a D-list Wannabe Legend.
Michael Wolff, GQ’s Author of the Year for his explosive book Fire And Fury on Donald Trump’s presidency, came over to say hello.
‘Great coup,’ I said. ‘How many copies have you sold?’ Wolff’s face morphed slowly into a deliciously self-satisfied grin. ‘Four million.’
At £20 a pop, that’s a whopping payday; Trump-bashing’s very lucrative.
Sadly, the night’s host was less successful. Catastrophe star Rob Delaney was… fittingly… a catastrophe.
Fortunately he was SO unfunny, it made me laugh. Halfway through the night, Kate motioned towards James Norton, who was wearing a white jacket, and asked me: ‘Is he a cricketer, or your son?’
I chuckled, assuming she was joking. She wasn’t. ‘Hey James,’ I said, ‘Kate wants to know if you’re a cricketer or my son.’
Norton’s a very nice guy but for a second the charm mask fell.
‘Sorry, am I your WHAT?’
‘Trust me, I’m as offended as you are,’ I replied.
‘Kate,’ I continued, ‘James is Britain’s hottest young actor. In fact, he’s tipped to be another James – Bond.’
Ms Beckinsale laughed off her gaffe with commendable gaiety.
Rose McGowan, GQ’s first female winner of the Inspiration of the Year award for speaking out about sexual harassment in Hollywood (she exposed Harvey Weinstein), was celebrating her 45th birthday so ordered lashings of champagne and cake for the table.
Some think she’s a man-hating rabid feminist, but she quickly allayed those concerns.
‘Do you have any problem with the concept of Men of the Year Awards?’ I asked. ‘No,’ she replied. ‘It’s great to have men of the year, and women of the year. I’m an honorary man this year and I’m fine with that.’
‘What do you think of cricket banning Man of the Match awards for men’s matches and making them Player of the Match instead?’
‘Why are they doing that?’
‘In case anyone’s offended.’
‘I think that’s ridiculous.’
As we left, I spied Sacha Baron Cohen, whose brilliant series Who Is America? has caused outrage by mocking hard-right Republicans.
In the first episode, Cohen showed some clips of me arguing with NRA lobbyists, before duping the same men into saying they approved of arming toddlers.
‘Thank you for making those gun nuts look as stupid as they are,’ I told him. ‘Thank YOU, Piers!’ he replied.
‘You’ve been one of the very few people to publicly stand up to them.’
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 6
Chrissy Teigen was asked by the Daily Mirror if she would ever appear on British television. ‘As long as I’m not doing anything with Piers Morgan, I’m happy,’ she replied. Trust me luv, you will NEVER be doing ANYTHING with Piers Morgan.