Piers Morgan Doesn’t Like My Nose

The famous journo and Arsenal fan responded to my tweet and frankly, I’ve never felt so important.

To pay homage to the tabloid-style foundations upon which Piers Morgan’s journalistic career is built, any research that I do on the US editor-at-large for the Mail Online will be gleaned from Wikipedia. This is because Wikipedia is a more credible source of information than The Sun or the Daily Mirror, two of Morgan’s ex-employees.

Look, my unsolicited tweet mentioning Piers Morgan (note that I didn’t @ him) was unnecessarily puerile and probably borne out of pre-match nerves and frustration; my beloved Arsenal Football Club had a date at Old Trafford (one which customarily ended in defeat for the Gunners and exacerbated concerns about their title-winning temperament) and I needed an outlet. Before big Arsenal games I battle to eat, let alone interact with other people without becoming irrationally irritable. So I manually had a look at PM’s Twitter timeline (he is an infamous Arsenal supporter) because I have a perverse need to annoy myself and, in turn, realise that I am not the most annoying person on the internet. Go and look at his latest vitriolic tirade against Arsenal’s management here. He also enjoys having a dig at England’s cricket union for their unwillingness to select Kevin Pietersen. This is neither here nor there, merely fodder while I’m trying to work out where this piece is going.

Anyway, the comedic crux of the whole thing is that a man with 4.87 million followers on Twitter often resorts to typing his own name into Twitter’s search field just to see what people are saying about him. I don’t buy for a second that he has minions doing this for him, and hey, any publicity is good publicity. Perhaps even more juvenile was his insistence on belittling my appearance. Couldn’t a ‘well-respected’ journalistic craft something a bit wittier and more biting than that? I was a little disappointed that he didn’t have more of a go at my shit personality or terrible jokes.

My troll-like days on Twitter, believe it or not, are largely behind me but Piers Morgan really does bring out latent tendencies. It comes with the territory, it’s often said, and I really have no sympathy for a journalist who has been accused of phone-hacking on multiple occasions (I refuse to have an opinion on whether these allegations were true, but unfortunately for PM negative public opinion simply doesn’t go away). Writers and journos should do everything in their power to write investigative stories that expose the truth, but sometimes lines of decency need to be drawn. And maybe Piers Morgan can’t draw those lines because he sold all of his pens for a front-page exclusive.

I resent Piers Morgan for being a high-profile public figure invited to attend Arsenal matches on a regular basis at the exquisite Emirates Stadium, no doubt sampling delicious prawn sandwiches and malt whiskeys in the process. Part of me enjoyed the fact that he interacted with my tweet because that reinforces the power and immediacy of the platform.

As for my assertion that he is the “…most wretchedly loathsome person on planet Earth”, well that might have been a little excessive. As an Arsenal fan who possesses a deep, unwavering and cerebral love for the club and the sport in general, I feel ashamed that supporters like me might ever be painted with the Piers Morgan brush. As an admirer of comedy, I always buy into the notion that either everything is off-limits or nothing is off-limits. The world is a funny place and maybe the last laugh belongs to Morgan himself as we found ourselves offended by his usually irreverent jibes. I suppose him and I aren’t so different after all.

Piers, thanks for the lols m8. My favourite moment of this whole ‘debacle’ was when one of your ‘adoring’ fans said this:

No caption necessary

Or when one of your genuine fans shot me down like:

Yeah totes in my place

And obviously I am now singing this:

Thankfully I also have fans lmao!


I will never follow Piers Morgan on any social platform but I suppose I’ll always be no more than a click away from the stench of his questionable shock tactics and opinions. That’s something me and my gigantic nostrils will just have to grudgingly accept.