Piers Morgan’s Good Morning Britain is now so right on, it could be BBC Breakfast

LIKE all the other Good Morning Britain guests, Tuesday’s pairing was an excuse for Piers Morgan to turn the conversation round to his favourite subject.

“Tony Blackburn and Ricky Wilson,” he said, before the inevitable switch, “the most unlikely pairing since me and Susanna. Yet it works, just like we do,” he added, in his usual adorable fashion.

Three months ago, though, I’d have agreed with the conceit wholeheartedly. It did work, brilliantly. It was my favourite television show, by some distance.

Then the coronavirus hit, both nationally and personally, and when my own brain fog finally lifted, about a month later, the weirdest transformation had taken place on Good Morning Britain.

Piers, the “two spirit penguin” and scourge of political correctness, had turned into Owen Jones with added carbohydrates.

A disorientating process for viewers, although the noise levels and fury remained constant, with all of it being directed at Boris Johnson and his Government, who’ve been boycotting the show for over 50 days now.

Vendetta-driven or not, the cowardly buffoons have deserved a lot of Piers’ anger, as no one could pretend the lockdown operation has been a “success”, so they should be held to account for it every day.

Outrage only has real impact, however, if the same standards are applied to everyone else in a position of responsibility. Organisations such as Public Health England, local councils, the Leader of the Opposition (fat chance), the Scottish Government, the Welsh administration and the bureaucracy of the NHS (NOT the staff).

But that’s never going to happen so long as Piers, who used to wage war on empty virtue-signalling every morning, presents a news show in front of the slogan: “NHS — We love you.”

If that was the full political and cosmetic extent of the change, though, I think I could still bite my tongue and live with GMB. But it’s not.

About the same time, Donald Trump unfollowed Chunk on Twitter, the show’s whole world was turned on its head and almost everything that made it intoxicating and different went out of the window as well.

The hosts now work themselves into a puce-faced rage about Dominic Raab’s “taking the knee” comments on days when all their fury should be directed at the Reading murders.

Rentagobs like Ash “literally a communist” Sarkar are treated with a reverence usually reserved for Henry Blofeld. And Piers — once the gatekeeper of lockdown — ties himself in absolute knots trying to justify the Bristol protests while venting against the statue-topplers’ opponents with the question: “How can anyone die on the hill of Edward Colston?” Well, by joining a mass protest during a global pandemic, obviously.

PARY FOR PIERS

Being able to tell which way the wind’s blowing has won him a few temporary friends on Twitter, of course, but it’s ruined the entire tone and USP of the show, which was built on the glorious friction between left-of-centre broadsheet-reader Susanna Reid and tabloid reactionary Piers.

For three hours, every Monday to Wednesday now, GMB echoes to the sound of Susanna agreeing with him — “Mmhmm, yes.”

A source of huge regret as, friends and family aside, there are only five things I’ve actually missed in lockdown: Swimming, London pubs, Dishoom curry house, the Scotland football team and the pre-March version of GMB.

Unlike the other four, I’m not 100 per cent sure the old show is ever coming back, either.

Although, in a week when Piers accused the Government of being “too out of touch” to sympathise with people who needed food vouchers, it’s more important to remember the plight of someone whose unimaginable quarantine suffering was highlighted two days earlier on GMB.

“The agony for me personally is that Club Cinquante Cinq in St Tropez has reopened. Is there a possibility I can get in there for a long lunch this summer?”

Pray for Piers.

Great Sporting Insights

• Paul Merson: “Without sounding blasé, thirty grand a week is nothing.” Glenn Johnson: “Arsenal have the belief that they don’t believe Brighton can hurt them.”
• Chris Kamara: “Harry Maguire had a bad night last night and the goalkeeper had a bad last night, last night.” .
• (Compiled by Graham Wray).

A yeah from me, Jac

E4’S Big Brother: Best Ever Shows has been such a timely addition to the schedule that even the combined egos of Davina McCall and Rylan Clark-Neal haven’t been able to ruin the series, so far.

A reminder of a time before Twitter, snowflakes, culture wars and fake outrage made so many things impossible.

A reminder, also, that the celebrity version was vastly superior to civilian Big Brother, which had turned into a hideous parody of itself by 2006, the Nikki Grahame year.

Best ever series, on the evidence seen so far, was Celebrity Big Brother IV, in January 2006, with Michael Barrymore, Dennis Rodman, Rula Lenska and George Galloway who, as well as impersonating a cat, let’s not forget, lost his rag when placed fourth in an order-of-fame line-up, bleating: “Virtually every Muslim in the world knows who I am.”

Best ever contestant, though, I’d argue, was CBB III’s Jackie Stallone, who provided my favourite arrival (“Yeah, Jackie”) and diary room showdown: “I was told I’d be in with the eight most brilliant people in England. I was hoping for someone like Bill Gates.”

In the event, she got John McCririck, Bez and Brigitte Nielsen and it was probably all the better for Bill’s absence. TV used to be so much fun.

Random TV irritations

• Sky Sports presenters festooned with almost as many virtue-signalling badges as Rick from The Young Ones.
• Celebrity Gogglebox imagining we need anyone other than the brilliant Shaun Ryder/Bez pairing to see us through the hours.
• The chilling moment Les, from C4’s Dogging Tales repeat, revealed he’s got 18 kids.
• Good Morning Britain having an utterly pointless 18-minute debate about banning Swing Slow, Sweet Chariot at rugby matches before a perfunctory three-minute report on the Reading outrage.
• And a BBC1 continuity announcer telling me: “Don’t worry, EastEnders will be back later in the year.” Worry? I’ve waited most of my career for this moment, why would I worry?

Page 3 cheers for Sam

CHANNEL 4’s big 9pm documentary, on Thursday, began with narrator Zoe Telford almost having a fit of the vapours as she announced tabloid owners “wanted to capitalise on the permissive society”, at the start of the 1970s.

So goodness knows what convulsions the poor woman had, at 10pm, when the network repeated Dogging Tales, for purely honourable reasons, obviously.

First, though, she had to try to fan her way through Page 3: The Naked Truth, a brief history of the “loved and loathed” newspaper institution, where the most impressive contributors were the former models, whether they were damaged and regretful, like Emma Morgan and Debee Ashby, or defiant and fulfilled like Keeley Hazell and Sam Fox.

Least impressive, incidentally, was media commentator Roy Greenslade, who appeared to have cast himself in the white knight saviour role.

But I would say that, wouldn’t I. I’m a thoroughly hostile witness.

For what it’s worth, however, I thought The Naked Truth was a worthy and relatively honest look at the Page 3 phenomenon, even if it was always going to side more with those who successfully campaigned to ban topless pictures on the grounds that it gave the impression “women have just got to stand around in their pants”.

Fans of nudity as primetime light-entertainment may take comfort from the fact the women and men don’t even get the dignity of pants when they stand around on Naked Attraction, where they’re judged, first and foremost, on the state of their genitals.

I guarantee there won’t be any middle-class campaigners or left-wing politicians trying to ban this show, though, because it’s broadcast by Channel 4, which makes it not only acceptable but also completely different to Page 3.

Somehow or other.

Lookalikes

TV Gold

• The One Show’s tribute to Dame Vera Lynn. Lorraine highlighting the talents of star-in-the-making Meggie Foster, who’s already funnier than 95 per cent of TV comedians.
• Little Terry wedged into his sofa, like a Fiat Panda in the Eddie Stobart loading bay, by two absolute units called Sarah and Anne, on C4’s Dogging Tales repeat.
• The Ulrika Jonsson/Verne Troyer duet on Big Brother’s Best Ever Shows (E4).
• And a Love Island Australia contestant making the format’s best-ever entrance as he danced and winked his way into the Spanish villa, on ITV2: “Hola guapa senoritas! My name is Grant Crapp.” It certainly is.

Unexpected morons in the bagging area

Tipping Point, Ben Shephard: “The MP for Aberavon, Stephen Kinnock, is the son of which former Labour leader?”
Molly: “Tony Blair.”

The Chase, Bradley Walsh: “Which piece of sporting equipment has 16 feathers?”
Dean: “A ballcock.”

The Chase: “The birth of which royal was registered on August 2, 2013?”
Benji “Queen Elizabeth.”

(All contributions welcome, no matter how old.)

ON the final episode of EastEnders before its three-month Covid hiatus:

Tina ran out of pickled onions at the Prince Albert, Sharon bought the Queen Vic, Billy Mitchell undyed his hair, during a market brawl, and Karen invited him for some “horizontal tango.”

Yeah, missing you already . . .