Tuesday 23 November
One of the benefits of getting divorced from the ‘ITV family’ – which, for all the fake smiles, is even more dysfunctional than the Royal Family – is that I no longer have to attend the annual ‘Palooza’.
The absurdly named event exposes the network’s on-screen stars to abject ridicule in front of thousands of rowdy drunken advertisers.
In my absence, ITV’s director of television Kevin Lygo – who oversaw my sudden departure from Good Morning Britain after Meghan Markle wrote to chief executive Dame Carolyn McCall to demand my head on a plate for criticising her – gleefully stamped on my grave in his speech at the Festival Hall.
ITV’s director of television Kevin Lygo (above) gleefully stamped on my (Piers Morgan) grave in his speech at the Festival Hall
Referring to me as evil Harry Potter villain Voldemort, Lygo quipped: ‘He’s not here, is he? Of course, he’s not here – he f***ing walked off, didn’t he?’
He went on: ‘No, we miss Piers…’
In violent contradiction, he theatrically laughed as he said it. ‘But he’s gone…’
Lygo then made a crude ‘w****r’ hand signal, to raucous laughter from an audience including Holly Willoughby, Bear Grylls and Brian May.
‘… and that’s that.’
My initial reaction to hearing this was to immediately write to Carolyn, stating that the derogatory attacks were very harmful to my mental well-being and insisting that Lygo should be fired.
But my second thought, because I’m not a whiny weak woke wastrel, was to chuckle because it made me laugh.
Friday, 26/11
One of the most bizarre things about my long, dreary Covid experience is its complete absence of any sense of smell.
Tonight, during a pre-Ashes dinner at the Chelsea Arts Club, former England cricket captain Mike Atherton revealed he’s had the condition – anosmia – since birth.
He said that this causes problems such as inability to tell if food is bad, wine is corked (but I don’t know if it tastes good anyway), clothes needing cleaning or gas leakage.
But on a positive note, you don’t have to endure cigarette smoke, unfortunate body odours, dog mess or ghastly aftershaves.
‘I’m actually better off than you,’ Mike observed. ‘Because whereas you miss all sorts of delicious smells that you know and love, I’ve never experienced them, so have no clue what I’m missing.’
He’s right.
I never fully appreciated the simple unadulterated joy of a freshly brewed coffee until suddenly I couldn’t smell it and it tasted like charcoaled water.
Sunday 28th November
Yesterday, I took my ten-year-old daughter Elise to watch Arsenal beat Newcastle and she spent much of the game reading her book Dork Diaries, which I wrongly assumed was Gavin Williamson’s new memoir.
Today I brought Elise to see Emma Raducanu (new tennis champion) in action at the Royal Albert Hall. She was almost completely hooked for over two hours.
Emma, 19, is not just a fabulously talented athlete, she’s also a remarkably engaging, eloquent, confident and graceful young lady with a refreshing aversion to whining or self-pity and a ferocious will to win.
I (Piers Morgan) can’t think of a better role model than Emma Raducanu (above), who is not just fabulously talented but remarkably engaging, confident and a ferocious will to win
I loved how she came back from the Wimbledon wobble and won a major tournament three months later.
Elena-Gabriela Ruse was her opponent in this friendly exhibition match. She invited two younger ball-boys and girls to play serves for her. Emma quickly smashed the savages past their failing rackets.
If you want to know where this merciless streak comes from, she revealed in a post-match chat that her parents – Emma’s mum is Chinese and her dad Romanian – had separately berated her the day before for saying she was tired.
She wasn’t complaining.
‘Pressure is a privilege,’ she said. ‘I thrive on the adrenaline. I don’t really think about other people’s opinions or expectations. The only ones I have are that of myself, to improve and get better.’
Elise returned home buzzing from Emma Raducanu’s visit and wanting to emulate her. I can’t think of a better role model.
Monday 29 November
Boris Johnson, me and many others were confused by the name of Omicron Ovid Covid. For the labelling of variants of interest, the World Health Organisation used the Greek alphabet during the pandemic.
It was named Mu when the last one was designated, on August 30. However, it was assumed that this new one would go by Nu because WHO thought it would sound too similar to New.
They also ruled out Xi, which comes next, lest it offend China’s president.
Omicron.
My party trick for decades has been to recite the Greek alphabet. This is the only thing that I remember from my years of studying classicals in prep school.
Boris could do the same.
During an old GQ interview we did together, he name-dropped Achilles, so I challenged him to recite the Greek alphabet and he instantly rattled it all off – faultlessly.
Tuesday, November 30,
Tonight, GB News host Colin Brazier accidentally told his viewers that ‘Piers Morgan’ had led a flash-mob of Covidiots on a Tube train, wailing: ‘Wearing a mask is like trying to keep a fart in your trousers!’
Piers Corbyn was the one who did it.
This confusion is happening with alarming regularity and I don’t understand it.
The other is a tuneless and inflammatory attention-seeker. He has a brother called Jeremy who vocally opposed the Iraq War.
And the other… oh, wait.
Sunday, December 5,
ITV’s last program, Life Stories with Kate Garraway: An emotional show about life, will air tonight at 8pm.
Tony Blair is one of our contributors. Tony also gave his views on the camera about my interrogatory skills.
‘The thing that really made Piers very good at doing the show, and makes him an extraordinary figure in any event,’ he said, ‘is that he’s prepared to say things other people may think but don’t have the courage to say.’
I’ve often asked Life Stories guests what they’d like as their epitaph.
I’d take that as mine.