MONDAY, MARCH 11
Last summer, Andrew Ridgeley appeared on Good Morning Britain and tetchily refused to answer any of my questions about his old friend and pop partner George Michael.
It was an excruciatingly awkward encounter that led to Ridgeley being widely praised on social media for his ‘class’, ‘respect’ and ‘dignity’ in fending off my supposedly appallingly intrusive interrogation.
For my part, I was utterly bemused why he behaved in such an evasive manner given that the only thing he is famous for is being the other half of Wham!
Piers posted a picture of his recent meeting with Tony and Cherie Blair on Instagram. ‘I’m not saying her smile lacked warmth but I felt my eyeballs begin to spontaneously freeze,’ he writes
Today, the mystery was solved when it was announced that Mr Ridgeley has written an autobiography entitled Wham! George & Me.
Publishers Penguin drooled: ‘Andrew’s memoir covers in wonderful detail the scrapes, the laughs, the relationships, the good and bad.’
So it turns out the real reason Ridgeley didn’t want to answer my questions was less to do with dignity and more to do with greedily protecting his own careless whispers about George for a very large cheque.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 13
Talking of shameless hypocrites, self-acclaimed carnivore Gordon Ramsay has revealed a sudden love for veganism. ‘It’s happened,’ he tweeted a few days ago. ‘The vegan roast has landed!’ He included a photograph of a meat-devoid dinner with the hashtag #roastrevolution.’
‘Oh FFS Ramsay,’ I replied, ‘not you as well? That looks revolting.’
Tonight, Ramsay appeared on James Corden’s US chat show and Corden read out our exchange to huge laughter from the audience. ‘What do you say to Piers’s critique?’ Corden asked.
‘So Piers Morgan is now a FOOD CRITIC?’ scoffed Ramsay. Then he turned to the camera and addressed me directly: ‘Go and f*** yourself! I mean, SERIOUSLY?’
He then proclaimed his evangelical support for all things vegan.
Now, forgive me if I’m rather sceptical about this sudden Damascene conversion by one of Britain’s most famous meat-lovers. In 2016, when asked by a Twitter follower if he had any allergies, Ramsay answered: ‘VEGANS!’ And last year, the same Ramsay tweeted: ‘I’m a member of PETA! People Eating Tasty Animals.’
It seems the only thing tastier than eating animals for Mr Ramsay is the thought of cashing in on this vegan craze.
THURSDAY, MARCH 14
The last time I saw Cherie Blair was in 2004 for dinner at No 10 Downing Street with her then Prime Minister husband Tony, just after I’d departed as editor of the Daily Mirror.
It would be fair to say Cherie and I enjoyed a rather testy relationship, which is a polite way of saying we couldn’t stand each other.
But time is a great healer, right?
Tonight, I attended the Champneys Ball at London’s Marriott Hotel in Grosvenor Square, a star-studded affair to raise money for cancer charities.
I walked in to the pre-dinner VIP drinks reception and saw Tony Blair standing in a corner with Frank Bruno and David Seaman.
‘Brexit is a complete and utter fiasco!’ I told him.
‘That,’ he sighed, ‘is an understatement…’
Flashbulbs suddenly exploded and there was my old nemesis.
‘Cherie!’ I exclaimed.
I’m not saying her smile lacked warmth but I felt my eyeballs begin to spontaneously freeze. ‘Could I have a picture of you together?’ asked the official photographer.
‘It’s for charity,’ I chuckled, sensing Cherie’s reluctance to play happy families. ‘This can be our official kiss-and-make-up photo.’
‘I never fell out with YOU!’ Cherie insisted.
Well, she did once try to get me fired (before I later WAS fired), which I would categorise as a reasonable catalyst for ‘falling out’.
A second photographer appeared and asked for another picture. ‘No, we’ve already done one,’ said Cherie, firmly.
And with that, she gestured to Tony it was time they left.
Methinks Brexit will be easier to resolve than this feud.
I went through for dinner, and bumped into Bobby Davro, the star comic turn for the night. Bobby came on GMB recently with Jim Davidson to bemoan the PC-ravaged state of Britain that’s reduced risqué comedians like them to endangered species.
‘Are you identifying as a man tonight, Piers?’ he chuckled.
‘I am,’ I replied. ‘I sincerely hope you’re identifying as a politically incorrect comedian?’
I sat down next to Jimmy Nesbitt, and a few minutes later, Bobby bounded on stage.
‘I’m the only entertainer from the Eighties who hasn’t been arrested!’ he chortled, to huge cheers.
He then buried everyone in the room.
‘Great to see football legends Tony Adams and David Seaman here tonight,’ he announced, waiting for them both to stand and acknowledge the audience, before adding: ‘I found an Arsenal shirt all scrunched up in a plastic bag and thought, I’ll hang on to that – plastic bags are worth 5p these days.’
He congratulated Stacey Solomon and her partner, former EastEnders star Joe Swash, on their forthcoming baby.
‘Joe Swash is a hard man to ignore,’ Bobby said, ‘but trust me – it’s worth the effort.’
Then he spied Frank Bruno and beseeched him to join him on stage. ‘GET UP, FRANK!’ he cried. ‘Come on, that’s what they used to shout at you in your boxing days…’
Even his ex-wife got sledged. ‘She was a babe,’ he said. ‘You’ve seen the film, right?’
He ended with the words: ‘If you’ve enjoyed my performance tonight, my name’s Bobby Davro. If you haven’t, it’s Jim Davidson – and if you really hated it, it’s Piers Morgan.’
I loved it, as did everyone else in the room, including Jimmy Nesbitt, who spent most of the routine convulsed with the kind of laughter you emit when you think it’s a bit naughty to find something funny.
Davro’s cheeky irreverence reminded me that merciless, inappropriate p***-taking used to be the bedrock of British humour.
How sad that the Snowflake Police are so intent on eradicating it.