Guest Blog: Piers Morgan

25-11-10

My job has taken me to every corner of the globe. Along the way I’ve met
the rich, the famous and have even had time to say a polite ‘hello’ to
ordinary folk, despite the fact that they can do nothing to further my career.

And now this career – this journey – is about to project me into stratosphere, because I’ve just completed my new series: Piers On The Job. The title is typical of my robust sense of humour. It implies that every week you’ll witness me having sexual intercourse with a woman. If you’d thought that (which would be understandable as many, many women find me attractive) you’d be wrong, because every week I’ll be challenged to do someone else’s job.

The first episode sees me try my hand at stand-up comedy. My first ‘gig’ was at the Laughter Conservatory, and after a week of intense tutelage I stepped out and hit them with a series of observational ‘zingers’. “Don’t you really hate it when Ian Hislop puts sugar in your petrol tank after a recording of Have I Got News For You, causing irreparable damage to your Ferrari?” The great thing about English audiences is that they’re so incredibly polite and allowed me to complete my performance without making a sound.

I was then set the task of becoming an actor. Being someone who names George Clooney, Daniel Craig, Meryl Streep, Al Pacino, Dame Judi Dench and Steve McFadden amongst their closest friends, I think I know a little bit about ‘the craft’. In fact throughout Britain’s Got Talent, people were constantly asking me to ‘stop acting the c**t’, which I always took as a compliment because, of course, I’m not a c**t.

In truth I’m a humble man, so my final experience on this voyage has allowed me to demonstrate just how ubelievably humble I can be. My challenge was to live the life of homeless person. There are many people who say the homeless are a boil on our society that needs to be lanced, the sooner the better. Not my words of course, because, if you remember, I’m not a c**t.

I’ve been destitute now for 48 minutes. I’m cold, wet, tired and hungry – and what’s more, no-one has recognised me, despite the fact I was on television five times last week (111 if you count the repeats on ITVs 2, 3, 5 and 7). The grim reality is this – if I’m to survive these mean streets I am going to have to beg for money, offer sex to men who are not in my league, or seek a bed in one of those doss-houses that are owned by my close friend Lenny Henry.

I will prevail – I have always been a prevailer – and take strength from what my family, my friends, my wife and my agent tell me every single day: ‘People will watch absolutely anything on television’.

 

 

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