PIERS MORGAN DELICIOUSLY INDISCREET
TUESDAY, APRIL 25
Tinie Tempah, the brilliant singer-songwriter who’s had seven No.1 hits in the past decade, appeared on Good Morning Britain today.
‘You’ve got amazing skin,’ cooed Susanna Reid during a commercial break. ‘What’s your secret?”
‘Coconut oil,’ he replied. ‘I drink it, smear it over my body and hair, clean my teeth with it, I even pour it over my dog, Pablo.’ Susanna’s eyes lit up, and my heart sank. I can now predict with absolute certainty that the GMB studio will stink of coconut with immediate effect.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 26
Bad boy footballer Joey Barton has been banned from playing for 18 months after admitting to illicitly betting on the game.
My mind went back to a Twitter exchange we had three years ago when he was convinced Manchester United would win the Premier League.
‘£1,000 to charity says they don’t, Pitbull,’ I said. (I call him that because he’s best muzzled on and off the pitch for his, and everyone else’s, safety).
‘I would, Nicebutdim [his inexplicable nickname for me, based on Harry Enfield’s posh twerp character Tim Nice But Dim],’ he replied, ‘but I’m not allowed to bet on football due to new Premier League rules!’
‘Since when did you observe any rules?’ I countered.
‘We all gotta start sometime, brother...’ he responded.
Not for the first time in his life, Pitbull found sticking to the rules impossible.
THURSDAY, APRIL 27
Dinner at Odette’s restaurant in north London with a fun group including Gary Lineker, Rachel Johnson, Jemima Khan and philosopher Alain de Botton.
It was a timely encounter as Rachel was revealed today to have joined the Liberal Democrats, much to the horror of her brother Boris, and Jemima’s brother Zac Goldsmith has announced he’s running again as a Conservative candidate.
But I had a more unlikely option for public office in mind.
Lineker’s been riding a tidal wave of liberal hero-worship on social media for his vociferous crowd-pleasing stance on everything from Europe and refugees to sexism and media misconduct.
And as Donald Trump proved, TV celebrity status can be a mighty political campaign tool.
‘Got to be time for you to run for parliament yourself, hasn’t it, Saint Lineker?’ I suggested.
Gary took his white napkin, folded it carefully in total silence and placed it on his head like a papal tiara. Then he burst out laughing and threw it on the floor. ‘Not in a million years!’ This sounded like Theresa May’s equally emphatic ‘I will never have a snap election’ pledge to me.
I suspect Lineker could be as effective a politician as he was a striker. He’s smart, cunning, thick-skinned, has a keen eye for goal and is way more popular than someone like Corbyn.
Though quite what he’d do about repelling the likes of Kim Jong-Un or Isis if he ever became prime minister remains a mystery, given he barely made a tackle in his professional career and never once got booked.
FRIDAY, APRIL 28
President Trump celebrated his first 100 days in office by speaking at the National Rifle Association’s annual convention.
This is the insidious organisation that pops up every time there is a mass shooting in America to say the only answer is more guns.
They get especially exercised about the fact that many of these shootings happen where guns are banned, like schools.
‘Gun-Free Zones are dangerous!’ is the NRA’s ruthless money-spinning mantra.
In his speech, President Trump assured the gathering of ‘lawful gun-owners’ he would never do anything to infringe on their constitutional right to bear arms.
By sublime irony, however, NRA members were banned from bringing guns into the convention centre when Trump spoke.
This was because the Secret Service – understandably – deemed it too dangerous to have guns anywhere near the President.
So the NRA’s own convention was turned into a Gun-Free Zone, and NRA members had their right to bear arms infringed on by the very man telling them he would never infringe on them.
As Homer Simpson would say: ‘D’oh!’
SUNDAY, APRIL 30
Alan Sugar invited me to the Spurs boardroom to witness the north London Derby between Tottenham and Arsenal. He’s been recovering from a heart scare in Florida that resulted in him needing a stent inserted to fix a blocked artery. ‘What caused it?’ I asked. ‘The stress of seeing Trump become President or just old age?’
‘I’m as fit as a fiddle, Morgan,’ he growled. ‘It was a hereditary thing, apparently. But I was lucky the US docs spotted it when they did or it could have been much more serious.’ ‘Any longer term side effects?’ I asked. ‘No, though I am temporarily suspended from flying planes on medical grounds.’
‘Hasn’t stopped you talking though, has it?’ bemoaned former Spurs manager David Pleat as he walked past, echoing my sentiment. Arsenal lost 2-0, piling yet more pressure on our own beleaguered manager Arsene Wenger, who’s become the Jeremy Corbyn of football: a deluded, stubborn 67-year-old leader who doesn’t seem to realise the game is up. Exactly a year ago, after his 12th consecutive failure to win the Premier League, I tweeted the following: ‘Wenger will limp on for another season now, we’ll come 5th/6th [keep this tweet] & he’ll leave with his legacy wrecked. Sad.’
Arsenal are currently sixth, with little hope of finishing higher. Wenger’s legacy is wrecked and it’s all very sad. The only question now is, why hasn’t he left?