Saturday, October 16

Except for the deaths of close family and friends, September 12th 2005 was my worst day.

Perversely, it was one of the most memorable days in my life because I was there to see England win against Australia, and the greatest Ashes series.

But my unbridled joy at the thrilling triumph didn’t last long.

I’d (Piers Morgan, above, left) taken my little brother Rupert (above, right) to a mate’s hospitality box where Man of the Series Freddie Flintoff, looked over to us with a massive grin

I’d (Piers Morgan, above, left) taken my little brother Rupert (above, right) to a mate’s hospitality box where Man of the Series Freddie Flintoff, looked over to us with a massive grin

I’d taken my little brother Rupert to a mate’s hospitality box, which overlooked the players’ balcony, and as the historic victory loomed, Man of the Series Freddie Flintoff, one of my all-time sporting heroes, looked over to us with a massive grin and made a frenzied beer-drinking signal, shouting: ‘It’s gonna be a big one tonight, boys – see you later!’

Unfortunately, he didn’t see me later because, inexplicably, I had agreed to go to Birmingham that evening to do a book-signing.

Rupert was able to party until 6 AM with everyone in England, despite the fact that his schedule didn’t clash.

‘Bruv, it’s amazing here,’ he texted me at midnight from the team’s lavish hotel as I sat sulking in my room at the decidedly less lavish Holiday Inn (yes, really). ‘On the lash with Freddie and the boys. You’d have loved it.’

Deeply sad, I went to sleep and was woken by a string of excitable voicemails. ‘Bruv, I’m completely smashed. I was there all night for Freddie and his boys. The best party! They can’t believe you went to Birmingham instead!’

I couldn’t either.

The Evening Standard featured a large photo of Mr Flintoff (above), drunk as a skunk in the hotel bar. Next to him was the unmistakable blue shirt of my (Piers Morgan) brother

The Evening Standard had a photo of Flintoff, above. He was seen drinking in the bar. He was accompanied by the blue shirt that my brother (Piers Morgan), wore.

After I returned to London, the Evening Standard featured an image of Flintoff drunk in a hotel bar.

He was right beside the blue shirt that belonged to my brother.

The head of the man had been removed, but it was his.

For 16 years I’ve struggled to put the dreadful scars of that calamity behind me.

Tonight Rupert hosted a party in celebration of his 50th birthday. I asked Freddie to send me a congratulatory note that I could deliver during my speech.

I was reopened by his words like an acid-sprinkled machete.

‘The night after the final Ashes test in 2005 was probably the best of my life for many reasons,’ Freddie began.

‘Obviously, beating the Aussies for the first time in 18 years, and I did all right, but mainly for having the correct Morgan brother at the celebrations at the hotel.

‘Although Piers has put 100s of hours in over the years buttering various players’ a**es to try and be part of the inner sanctum, that night he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was the great man Rupert Morgan, his younger, far better looking and more charismatic brother, leading the charge – as any self-respecting cricket fan would – while we celebrated the finest Test series in history together with fine champagne, even finer French wine, beer and cigars.

‘It was a night you just didn’t want to end. It was my best friends, but now I have a new group. Piers signed copies of his new book, The Comings and Goings of Simon Cowell. He was also in Birmingham to meet Z-list celebrities. 

‘I can only thank the good people of Birmingham for taking one for the team – I will be forever in your debt.

‘Some nights you’ll always remember and can’t recreate – but for some it’ll always be the one that got away. Happy birthday Rupes, can’t believe you’re 50, but if you’re ever feeling down about that, cast your mind back to 2005 and that night will never fail to make you smile. 

‘If that doesn’t work, then just be happy in the knowledge you’re not Piers. Love Fred.’



Tuesday, 26th October 

‘There are a lot of good things about being famous,’ said Sharon Stone, ‘but there are a few not so good things too.’

Today, Jeremy Vine sent me a tweet with these wise words. It was a clip of his Radio 2 program in which a viewer named Dave shared that he printed a photograph of mine on his colostomy bag.

Jeremy Vine (above) tweeted a clip from his Radio 2 show, in which a listener named Dave revealed that he had printed a photo of my (Piers Morgan) face on his colostomy bag

Jeremy Vine (above), tweeted a clip of his Radio 2 show in which a listener called Dave said that he printed a picture of me (Piers Morgan), on his colostomy bag

The stoma is a device made of plastic that captures the feces from the stomach through an opening within the abdominal wall.

Dave explained: ‘They suggest getting a picture on the bag to humanise it a little bit, and I had Piers Morgan! I won’t explain to listeners the obvious reasons why…’


I assume it’s because I’m a very effective antidote to people who are full of s***.


Wednesday, October 27 

I’m giving up my Life Stories show after 12 years and 100 guests to focus on my new daily global TV programme, coming next year. (My last interview with Kate Garraway, my former colleague on Good Morning Britain will be.

After the announcement, I was touched to see Captain Sir Tom Moore’s son-in- law, Colin Ingram, tweet: ‘Gutted but so pleased Captain Sir Tom was invited to sit with Piers Morgan. He loved being on the show and always regarded Piers extremely highly.’

Tom was my favorite guest and I felt exactly the same about him.

We were captivated by the story of this humble, charismatic, funny, and inspiring war hero who became a global star at 99 years old through a single act of selfless, difficult determination.

Captain Sir Tom perfectly proved my long-held theory that we all have the potential to make our mark on the world, and it’s never too late to make it.

Do something amazing if you are looking for a wonderful life story.