The Irish Mail on Sunday - TV Week - - CONTENTS - PIERS MOR­GAN

Piers wins some praise on the golf course from Kiefer Suther­land


One of the smartest show­busi­ness people I’ve in­ter­viewed is Seth Mac­Far­lane – the ge­nius be­hind small- and big- screen hits such as Fam­ily Guy and Ted. To­day he an­nounced a new TV com­edy called Blunt Talk, based on a char­ac­ter called Wal­ter Blunt, played by Patrick Ste­wart.

The press re­lease read: ‘Blunt is a Bri­tish im­port in­tent on con­quer­ing the world of Amer­i­can ca­ble news. Through the plat­form of his nightly show, Blunt is a bor­der­line al­co­holic, mad-ge­nius Brit on a mis­sion to im­part his wis­dom on how Amer­i­cans should live, think and be­have. The se­ries fol­lows Blunt’s well in­ten­tioned but mis­guided de­ci­sion-mak­ing. Be­sieged by net­work bosses, a dys­func­tional news staff, nu­mer­ous ex-wives and chil­dren, Blunt’s only sup­porter is the al­co­holic manser­vant he brought with him from the UK.’ I’m ob­vi­ously out­raged. I don’t have an al­co­holic manser­vant.


Played golf with a cou­ple of ac­tors in LA to­day, and half­way through, one of them took a phone call. ‘Kiefer!’

I only know one ‘Kiefer’. In fact, I think there IS only one ‘Kiefer’. And he’s cur­rently star­ring in a new se­ries of the bril­liant drama 24. My friend walked off, chat­ted for a few min­utes on the side of the fair­way, then re­turned. ‘That was Kiefer…’ ‘So I gath­ered.’ ‘I told him I was play­ing with you, and he asked me to tell you that he’s re­ally sorry about the CNN thing, and that he thinks your gun cam­paign­ing has been brave and heroic, and he truly ad­mires you for it.’

My chest spon­ta­neously puffed up, and I drilled a 7-iron straight on to the green. When Jack Bauer’s got your back, ev­ery­thing seems OK again.


It was the an­nual White House Cor­re­spon­dents’ Din­ner in Wash­ing­ton tonight. A lav­ish af­fair at­tended by the Pres­i­dent and Amer­ica’s finest po­lit­i­cal, me­dia and celebrity fig­ures.

‘I was the sec­ond hu­man be­ing Thierry fol­lowed on Twit­ter. It was the great­est mo­ment of my life’

An acer­bic US co­me­dian called Joel McHale made the key­note speech, which tra­di­tion­ally lam­poons half the people in the room, to their in­tense dis­com­fort. And McHale man­aged to be even more dis­com­fort­ing than his pre­de­ces­sors. Even I wasn’t spared.

Half­way through, he de­clared: ‘At this point, CNN is like the Ra­dio Shack in a sad strip mall. You don’t know how it stayed in busi­ness this long, you don’t know any­body who shops there and they just fired Piers Mor­gan.’

At which point both Barack and Michelle Obama’s faces creased into un­con­trol­lable laugh­ter.

It’s a strange ex­pe­ri­ence see­ing the most pow­er­ful cou­ple in the world cheer­fully chortling over one’s pro­fes­sional demise. But the more I thought about it, the more pleased I felt.

Just need the Pope and the Queen caught on cam­era guf­faw­ing over my de­par­ture from the air­ways, and I’ll be the most fa­mous sac­kee in TV his­tory.


My phone rang. ‘’Allo, it’s Thierry.’

Very few things over-ex­cite me in life, but the dul­cet French tones of Ar­se­nal leg­end Thierry Henry al­ways get my torso tin­gling al­most as fer­vently as his goals once did.

‘ I’m join­ing Twit­ter,’ he an­nounced. ‘It’s time.’

I was stunned, as Thierry’s al­ways in­sisted he’d never tweet. ‘I changed my mind,’ he said. ‘I can see it’s a good way to cor­rect all the ridicu­lous stuff said about me. And to say what I want about a few people.’

‘Be pre­pared for a lot of abuse…’ I warned. ‘I can han­dle it,’ he chuck­led. ‘I played at Spurs a few times.’

I was the sec­ond hu­man be­ing Thierry ‘fol­lowed’ once his ac­count went live tonight, af­ter an­other for­mer Ar­se­nal great, Cesc Fabre­gas. He even fol­lowed me be­fore he fol­lowed the of­fi­cial Ar­se­nal ac­count.

Short of the four times I’ve heard the words, ‘You have a new baby boy/girl, Mr Mor­gan,’ and how­ever pa­thetic it may sound to non-foot­ball fans, it was pos­si­bly the great­est mo­ment of my life. You’d have to be a die- hard Gooner to un­der­stand why.


Four years ago, a young punk-haired ‘hip-hop violinist’ called Lind­sey Stir­ling reached the quar­ter-fi­nals of Amer­ica’s Got Talent. She was a crazy per­former, charg­ing all over the stage – to the detri­ment of her vi­o­lin play­ing.

‘ There were times,’ I pro­nounced, ‘when it sounded to me like a bunch of rats be­ing stran­gled.’ It re­mains one of the most with­er­ing judg­ing ver­dicts I ad­min­is­tered in my Got Talent ca­reer. And a tear­ful Lind­sey was duly booted off the show by the Amer­i­can voting pub­lic.

To­day, the same Ms Stir­ling rock­eted to No. 2 on the Bill­board chart with her new al­bum, ce­ment­ing her sta­tus as a su­per­star. Asked by CBS about our en­counter, she ad­mit­ted: ‘It was so hurt­ful to be crushed in such a neg­a­tive way. But I ended up us­ing it as mo­ti­va­tion. “I’m gonna prove Piers Mor­gan wrong!” ’

Asked if we’d been in touch since, Lind­sey shook her head and replied: ‘No, I’m a lit­tle sad his CNN show got can­celled be­cause I al­ways wanted to be a guest on it.’ Then she paused, and smirked: ‘Ac­tu­ally, in­side I’m a lit­tle happy it got can­celled.’

Iron­i­cally, as I heard these words, I in­vol­un­tar­ily made a high-pitched squeal­ing noise not dis­sim­i­lar to a rat be­ing stran­gled.

New­bie: Foot­baller Thierry Henry has fi­nally joined Twit­ter

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