Piers MORGAN
MY LIFE AND OTHER CELEBRITIES
‘Every pub closed. The Apocalypse is truly upon us...’
Normally, the news that I’ve just been voted 13th on the annual London Power List would bring me irrational pleasure, particularly as Prince Harry and Meghan Markle came joint 20th, which I know will really irk them both.
Yet how utterly pointless and irrelevant such an ‘accolade’ seems today, as coronavirus sweeps the globe on its vicious, deadly rampage, putting celebrity egos firmly back in the very insignificant box where they belong.
The only truly powerful people right now in London – like everywhere else – are the doctors, nurses and other health workers who will be risking their own health, and perhaps lives, to help and save us.
It reminds me of a conversation I had last year with a recently retired Beverly Hills ear, nose and throat surgeon.
‘You must have saved so many famous people’s hearing and voices?!’ I exclaimed excitedly. ‘What was your greatest achievement?’
He looked at me in bemusement bordering on contempt.
‘My greatest achievement,’ he eventually replied, slowly, ‘was saving babies’ lives with emergency tracheostomies. And my greatest failure was losing babies whose lives I couldn’t save.’
SATURDAY, MARCH 14
Sheridan Smith tweeted what she described as a ‘daft but fun’ corona-game today: ‘You’re stuck in quarantine for 14 days with the fifth person who pops up when you type @. Who are you quarantined with?’
‘Guys,’ replied Miranda Hart a few minutes later, ‘I’m taking one for the team here as I got… wait for it… @piersmorgan. Piers, it’s you and me for 14 days baby !!!! ’
Well, I can think of worse people to be trapped with than one of Britain’s funniest comedians.
‘LOVE it,’ I tweeted back, ‘your place or mine, Miranda?’
‘Yours,’ she answered. ‘I want a good snoop. Plus, I will bring a TV crew with me because I think it could be the best factual entertainment series of all time…’
MONDAY, MARCH 16
Boris Johnson announced draconian new measures this afternoon to combat the virus, including a strict rule that if anyone in a household shows symptoms of it, the whole household immediately goes into 14day quarantine.
Susanna rang me two hours later. ‘I’m self-isolating from you,’ she announced.
Notwithstanding our permanently simmering on-screen tension, this seemed a rather dramatic deterioration in our TV marriage.
‘Something I said?’ I replied.
‘No, something that’s happened to one of my sons – he’s got a persistent cough, and under the new rule, we’ll all have to quarantine.’
‘Does he have the coronavirus?’ I asked. ‘I don’t know because he’s not sick enough to warrant a test and there’s no way of knowing without a test.’
We agreed this seems an absurd situation. What if her son, who has no fever, DOESN’T have the virus, they all do the 14-day quarantine, go back out into the world and then one of the Reid household DOES get it? Do they all quarantine again?
Confusion from the government’s mixed messages is everywhere.
James Blunt messaged me.
After some opening pleasantries – ‘Hope you haven’t died and still have enough loo roll. I’m pretty sure Susanna’s been asking to socially distance from you for a while, hasn’t she?’ – he cut to the quick.
James owns a pub in Chelsea and wasn’t sure if he should close it after the prime minister said he was ‘suggesting’, not ordering, people to avoid pubs, bars, cafés, theatres and cinemas.
‘After the PM’s address,’ he asked, ‘we’re confused at the Fox and Pheasant – is it socially irresponsible to stay open?’
‘Probably,’ I replied, ‘though it’s outrageous the government has left that decision to you.’
‘I’ll close it tonight,’ he agreed. ‘It would be wrong not to if people are being advised not to go.’ He can afford the hit, obviously – but how many other pub owners can?
James has postponed his European tour after playing to an empty arena in Hamburg last week (he streamed the show online to fans and tweeted a photo of the empty ‘crowd’ saying: ‘They can ban large gatherings but as you can see here, it doesn’t seem to affect my shows.’)
He’s now in lockdown in Ibiza, where he has a home. ‘It’s actually really wonderful here,’ he said, ‘Deserted and beautiful. As Nostradamus said, “Ibiza will be Earth’s final refuge after Armageddon.”’
TUESDAY, MARCH 17
St Patrick’s Day, and every pub in Ireland is closed. As an Irishman, I can safely say this denotes the Apocalypse is truly upon us.
St Patrick said many profound things, but his assertion that ‘greed is a deadly deed’ seems particularly appropriate right now as ludicrously selfish people fight over the last loo roll in supermarkets, not stopping to think if someone may have a greater need.
One viral Instagram meme perfectly summed up my thoughts about this coronavirus crisis and our collective responsibility.
‘Your grandparents were called to fight in world wars,’ it read. ‘You’re being called to wash your hands & sit on the couch. Don’t f*** this up.’
Talking of couch-sitting, I co-presented Good Morning Britain without Susanna for only the second time in my four-and-halfyears on the show, with Charlotte Hawkins slipping into her chair (the other time was a bank holiday I once accidentally did with Kate Garraway because I hadn’t realised it was a bank holiday...).
My TV wife joined us via FaceTime from her south London home, having WhatsApped me almost continuously about the programme since 2am. ‘I hate being off work,’ she admitted afterwards. ‘Feels so weird.’
‘Do you mean you missed me?’ I queried.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘Though I’m due to come back on March 30 – your birthday.’ Hmm. I won’t get too excited. Something tells me I’ll be starting my 55th year in self-isolation, sweating like a pig and coughing like that Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? cheating major.
Stay safe out (or in!) there.