TUESDAY, JANUARY 7
Red Nose Day queen Emma Freud contacted me recently to ask if I would fight Alastair Campbell for this year’s Sport Relief.
She had it all worked out: ‘You’ll be trained by Chris Eubank, Nicola Adams, Audley Harrison and Nigel Benn. Your managers will be Frank Warren and Eddie Hearn. Your ring girls are Coleen Rooney and Rebekah Vardy. The MC is John Bercow. The commentator is Huw Edwards. The corner wingmen are Mikel Arteta [Arsenal’s new manager] and Sean Dyche [manager of Campbell’s team Burnley], plus Susanna Reid and Nigel Farage. You do three rounds, whack each other very hard, and the crowd goes crazy. We think it will make £1 million.’
I spent several days pondering whether killing Alastair Campbell live on TV would be a good or bad career move for me. Then finally, and with great reluctance, I concluded it wouldn’t
My initial feeling was to say yes.
Frankly, I can think of few more pleasing things to do than batter Campbell to a pulp for the delectation of the British public.
But my sons weren’t so keen.
‘Dad,’ said the middle one, Stanley, an actor and keen amateur boxer, ‘you only get one brain and at 50+ it’s weak,’ he said.
I was touched by this unusual concern for my wellbeing, but it turned out it wasn’t me they were worried about.
‘He’s 62,’ added Stanley. ‘If you chin him and he falls the wrong way, he could die – genuinely. It’s dangerous and he has family.’
I spent several days pondering whether killing Alastair Campbell live on TV would be a good or bad career move for me.
Then finally, and with great reluctance, I concluded it wouldn’t, and said no.
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 8
The new year has begun for Good Morning Britain the way the old one ended, with Prime Minister Boris Johnson and his Cabinet Ministers refusing to come on the show.
They’re all still sulking after we chased Boris into a large fridge on the eve of the election as we tried to get him to honour his repeated promises to give us an interview.
They should heed the words of former Labour deputy leader Tom Watson, who writes in his new book, Downsizing: ‘I knew for a fact that many Westminster politicians disliked appearing on GMB, fearing the programme’s notoriously tough interviews. The combative Piers Morgan and the forensic Susanna Reid were indeed a formidable duo – I’d seen many a guest shrink as they received a breakfast-time grilling. But I’d always enjoyed the experience. I liked sparring with Piers, and I admired Susanna’s incisive line of questioning.’
We, in turn, like and admire Tom for having big enough balls to come on.
Grow a pair, Boris.
THURSDAY, JANUARY 16
‘WIMP!’ snarled a grizzly voice behind me soon after I arrived at long-serving (and brilliant) Financial Times editor Lionel Barber’s splendid leaving party at Tate Britain tonight.
I turned to see Alastair Campbell, foaming at the mouth.
‘WIMP!’ he bellowed again.
‘I saved your life,’ I responded calmly.
‘You did WHAT?’
‘You’re an old man, I’d kill you within two rounds. It would be like Ivan “if he dies, he dies” Drago and Apollo Creed in Rocky IV.’
Campbell raised his fists and, for a moment, I thought things might actually kick off – which would have been most amusing as we were surrounded by the likes of Emily Maitlis and Robert Peston.
Then he lowered them again.
‘What are you scared of?’ he asked.
‘Honestly? Your twitching corpse lying on the canvas and my ITV bosses telling me I’d breached my new contract’s moral turpitude clause.’
‘You could argue justifiable homicide?’ suggested Emily. ‘In fact, that could apply if either of you die.’
‘I’D WIN!’ blustered Campbell.
‘Oh please,’ I chuckled, ‘you’ve lost every battle you’ve fought in recent years, including two elections and Brexit. I just spared you another crushing defeat, only this time you’d never have recovered.’
FRIDAY, JANUARY 17
Susanna Reid worships Love Island with the same passion I detest it. In her Daily Mail column yesterday, Susanna even described the cretinous dating show as ‘Jane Austen in skimpy bikinis’.
For my part, I’ve repeatedly described Love Islanders as ‘brain-dead zombies’, and on GMB this week I branded the new crop of contestants ‘the most stupid yet’.
So imagine my surprise when I learned that on tonight’s episode, Shaughna Phillips, a 25-year-old ‘democratic services officer’, told male model Connagh Howard, 27, her ‘favourite thing to do in the world’ is to ‘watch Piers Morgan have an argument’. Ms Phillips clarified: ‘I’m usually watching all the debates that Piers has. It could be about anything! I love it. I don’t usually watch unless it’s Monday to Wednesday, because that’s when he’s on.’
Imagine my surprise when I learned that, Shaughna Phillips, a 25-year-old ‘democratic services officer’, told male model Connagh Howard, 27, her ‘favourite thing to do in the world’ is to ‘watch Piers Morgan have an argument’
Mr Howard enthusiastically concurred, saying: ‘That’s one of my guilty pleasures too!’
Now, there are two ways of looking at this, given how diabolically rude I’ve always been about them: 1) Their skins are incredibly thick, 2) Their brains are incredibly thick.
Either way, poor Susanna now has to live with the fact that after all her slathering support for them, and all my mocking abuse, I’m their favourite person on TV.
SATURDAY, JANUARY 18
‘I’m in a group chatting with Hugh Grant at Rosslyn Park rugby,’ texted my niece Phoebe this afternoon. ‘Are you worth a mention? Are you friends?’
I didn’t see the message in time to explain that we’re the world’s most sworn enemies.
‘Hugh was very friendly until I told him you’re my uncle,’ she said later. ‘Then he screwed up his face and said “REALLY?” in a way that made me realise this was not a good development, so to get the banter back on track I said, “Piers sends his love!” But he just looked even more horrified, went “Oh God, right, OK”, and that was the end of the conversation!’