Piers Morgan's list of the ten rudest celebs

**Honey** · March 25th, 2009, 12:12 AM

My Caribbean holiday continued tonight with a lavish dinner on the beach back at the Sandy Lane Hotel, laid on by billionaire High Street entrepreneur Philip Green and his wife Tina.
As the fine wine flowed, and private chefs prepared a gourmet feast, the guests - including Simon Cowell, his girlfriend Terri Seymour and Sun editor Rebekah Wade - began to debate great matters of state. Not for us the complexities of the Middle East or Saddam's hanging, though.
No, the burning question, as proposed by Cowell, was this: who is the biggest prima donna in the world of showbusiness? It was a spirited discussion, but eventually we agreed on the top 10 celebrity divas. In reverse order, they were:

10. Rapper P Diddy - 'Oh, a complete nightmare,' said one diner. 'The jumped-up little plonker genuinely thinks he is the biggest star in the world.'
9. Liz Hurley - 'Pretends to be so high and mighty, but apart from wearing a dress with safety pins at her boyfriend's premiere 12 years ago, what the hell has she ever done?' was one withering observation.
8. Naomi Campbell - 'Ooohhhhh, sheer emotional, psychological and physical hell on magnificent legs' was one comment. I tried to defend Naomi, but I was shouted down. 'Piers, stop being so pathetic just because she fluttered her eyelashes at you.' Harsh, but fair.
7. Madonna - 'She has to be in there, can you even begin to imagine what she must be like to live with?' chuckled one of the male guests. 'The ultimate pain in the backside,' said another who once had to interview her.
6. Annie Lennox - came out of left field, this one. But the accuser was adamant. 'She was breathtakingly grand and offensive to me. I was shocked. But then other big stars told me she's always like that.'
5. Katie Holmes - another surprising choice. But one female member of the group insisted: 'Oh my God, she was the rudest woman I have ever met. Quite appalling.' And then the words nobody thought they would ever hear: 'I feel sorry for Tom Cruise.'
4. Mariah Carey - everyone nodded when her name came up. 'Actually has a red carpet and scented candles waiting when she arrives at hotels in the middle of the night,' said someone, almost admiringly.
3. Hugh Grant - all the media-related guests were unanimous on this one. 'If I have to hear that spoiled, upper-class brat whining one more time about fame, I'm going to take an axe and sever him at his pampered little neck,' was one of the more generous reflections.
2. Singer-songwriter Bobby Brown - 'Literally unbearable. A man who treats everyone around him like a personal slave.' Another guest added: 'He has, however, one thing going for him ... He's not his wife.'
1. His wife - Whitney Houston: a comfortable winner. Everyone had some form of terrible first-hand experience of this creature. 'Think Cruella De Vil without the charm,' was one verdict. Take your pick from other descriptions: 'Rude, arrogant, treats people like dirt, unreliable, difficult, stroppy little madam.'

Me and my big mouth! He may not be everyone's cup of tea, but Piers Morgan has become the ultimate celebrity insider | Mail Online

DitaPage* · March 25th, 2009, 12:19 AM

Sounds about right even though I loathe Piers Morgan. Then again I can't really hate on anyone who isn't afraid to dish dirt and name names

Katie Holmes was a bit surprising but again I don't think I'd be nice to that guy either. If they can say she was nasty to the entire room or something thats different, but he is a jerk so....

But I can truly believe Madonna is a cunt because when she was a guest on Will and Grace a few years ago, Eric McCormack said on a talk show that she was horrible and from all accounts he is a geniunely nice guy so I'll buy it from him. It's just harder to believe it from people who are assholes themselves.

**msdeb** · March 25th, 2009, 12:20 AM

i have never heard anything negative about annie lennox... wow!

**Sarzy** · March 25th, 2009, 02:04 AM

Katie Holmes was the only surprise to me.

**sparkly** · March 25th, 2009, 02:15 AM

I'm shocked about Annie Lennox and Katie Holmes, but no so much about Katie. After all, she's friends with that puny spoiled twit Victoria Beckham.

**A*O** · March 25th, 2009, 02:21 AM

I'm surprised Elton John isn't in there. He's a total bitch.

**McJag** · March 25th, 2009, 06:50 AM

WOW. I can see it all! Annie!

**Novice** · March 25th, 2009, 08:56 AM

Originally Posted by sparkly

I'm shocked about Annie Lennox and Katie Holmes, but no so much about Katie. After all, she's friends with that puny spoiled twit Victoria Beckham.

But you'll notice that Vicky isn't on there.... interesting non? And she gets WAY more coloum inches that Katie Holmes ever did (anthough it might have evened out now).

I know someone that worked with TC & said he was a really nice guy, wouldn't hear a bad word against him. (weird!)

**Moongirl** · March 25th, 2009, 12:15 PM

including Simon Cowell, his girlfriend Terri Seymour

Is this an older article? I thought they had broken up several months ago.

**FierceKiten** · March 25th, 2009, 12:21 PM

If Liz Hurley and Hugh Grant are such sobs, why did they ever break up. Those two would be in the BI's forever.

**Novice** · March 25th, 2009, 01:05 PM

Originally Posted by Moongirl

Is this an older article? I thought they had broken up several months ago.

Yeah, they did. Its clearer in the whole article that it was from 2007 (look near the bottom)

Me and my big mouth! He may not be everyone's cup of tea, but Piers Morgan has become the ultimate celebrity insider

By Piers Morgan
Last updated at 1:16 PM on 16th March 2009

After he was fired as a Fleet Street editor, Piers Morgan caused a sensation by publishing his extraordinary diaries, and followed them up two years later with his wildly honest accounts of the rich and famous as he strived to become a celebrity himself. Now he's back - with a new diary packed full of hilarious and outrageous gossip, titillation and revelation about life on Planet Celebridee. . .

Wannabe celeb: In his latest volume of diaries, Piers Morgan is as shamelessly revealing and compulsively readable as ever

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2006

Breakfast with Gordon Brown at the Treasury at 9am. Well, in the Chancellor's true prudent style, a cup of tea anyway. We used to meet regularly when I was Mirror editor, and it's rather touching to be invited back now I'm comparatively useless to him.
I was supposed to be there for 40 minutes, but finally emerged blinking into the sunshine at 11.23am after a fascinating one-to-one with the man who is expected to take over as prime minister next summer. We discussed everything from Iraq to The X Factor.

And yes, even our great mutual friend, Cherie. Whenever I mention her name, Gordon's whole body tenses like someone's just inserted an electric charge into his abdomen.
Listening to him vent his absurdly knowledgeable cerebral mass, I suddenly realised the way he should respond when the battle commences for real with David Cameron.
'Have you seen the film The American President?' I asked.
'Yes,' Brown replied. 'Then you will remember what President Andrew Shepherd [Michael Douglas] says?'
'Erm, not entirely. What did he say?' 'He made a virtue out of being serious. A serious man doing a serious job for his country. And the public loved him for it.'
Brown nodded, and smiled. 'Well, politics is a serious business.'

Well-acquainted: Piers with Gordon Brown and his wife Sarah

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 19

Take That, minus Robbie Williams, are back in the charts after more than ten years. I was the band's official biographer, and still have a copy of the first book we did together - a No1 bestseller - signed by the band.

Gary, Mark, Howard and Jason all wrote heartfelt, generous words of gratitude. Robbie, bitter about my royalties, just scrawled: 'To Piers, f*** you and f*** all your money.'
The little charmer is now, ironically, worth £100million. But he's also a lonely, self-obsessed, recovering alcoholic. And his new record has tanked.
It's nice to see the good guys have the last laugh.
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20

'Come and do a Comic Relief challenge,' pleaded Emma Freud on the phone this morning. She and her film-maker husband Richard Curtis, who created the annual event, could sell Big Macs to Posh Spice.
'What is it?' I asked, instantly suspicious.
'It's a one-off celebrity episode of The Apprentice,' she replied.
'Ah, I get it, you want me to get fired again, only this time on national television...'
'No no no, absolutely not,' insisted Emma. 'We just want you to have fun and raise a lot of cash for charity.'
Despite my firm belief that they do want me as their sacrificial firing lamb, it sounds like fun, and I think I'll do it.

And it was fun! Piers gives Ashley Cole a good soaking on The Apprentice for Comic Relief

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 21

Jude Law's a strange little cove, isn't he? Barely a week seems to go by without him whining about the Press invading his privacy, and that of his children.
So I was surprised to see him with his kids at the glitzy re-opening of the Somerset House ice-skating rink tonight.
I mean, why, if you feel so strongly about it, would you voluntarily expose your children to dozens of photographers, even if there was a charitable aspect to the night?
I found myself sitting next to Jude as we changed our skates. Him taking his off, me putting mine on.
'All right?' he said, nodding at me in that rather condescending way big stars do when they spot lesser 'celebrities'.
'All right?' I replied, defiantly adopting exactly the same attitude. 'How was the ice?'
Jude flashed those come-to-bed-nanny blue eyes at me, deep paranoid suspicion etched all over his face.
Several seconds passed as he digested the vulgarity of my question.
Then he threw back his head, flicked an imaginary hair from his perfectly groomed eyebrow, and said, slowly: 'Cold.'
Jude then chuckled to himself, and turned away.
My audience was over.
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 24

Tony Blair's official spokesman Alastair Campbell rang at 8am (old habits die hard for workaholic former Labour spin doctors).
'You doing this Celebrity Apprentice thing?' he asked.
'Yes, thinking about it,' I replied. 'You?'
'I will if you will,' he chuckled. 'At least that way I won't be the most unpopular person on it.'
It was very weird to be talking to him about doing a reality TV show together, even if this is for charity. Three years ago we were both in positions of huge influence - me editing the Mirror, and him running Blair's spin machine - and falling out over the Iraq War.
Now we're reduced to debating the finer points of who might end up getting fired by Sir Alan Sugar for the delectation of the public.
I think we both share a sense of slight embarrassment at even contemplating it.
It was the first time we'd talked in two years, and towards the end of the conversation, he said something that left me bemused all day.
'You know, Tony always said about you: "Piers is someone we should never underestimate, or overestimate." '
I still can't work out if I should feel flattered or insulted.
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 28

I was invited to dinner at No 11 Downing Street tonight with Gordon Brown and Simon Cowell. The former's almost certainly going to be running the country very soon; the latter already thinks he is.
I accepted with almost distasteful haste, and it didn't disappoint.
Before the meal, we were given a guided tour of No 10. 'Tony's away,' explained Gordon.
'Never mind him,' I said. 'Where's his missus?'
'I believe Cherie is also away,' he grinned. 'So we're safe.'
We entered the Cabinet Room. 'Simon, I'd like to discuss a very urgent matter of state with you,' boomed Gordon, as we stood by the famous decision-making table.
The Chancellor mustered up his most serious face.
'Those MacDonald Brothers on X Factor are bloody terrible!' he declared.
'Something must be done about them...'
Cowell burst out laughing. 'Tell me about it, Gordon. I've tried everything to get rid of them but they keep getting voted back.'
'Sounds not entirely dissimilar to what's been happening in Downing Street,' I suggested.
'Piers,' said Gordon, sternly. 'If you can't behave you will have to leave.' I sat next to Gordon's wife Sarah over dinner.
'How are your boys?' I asked. 'They're great,' she replied, with a glow of maternal pride.
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 29

I was watching Arsenal lose embarrassingly at Fulham tonight, when I received a text from Sarah Brown.
'The newspapers are running a story on our boy Fraser's health tomorrow.
Please don't worry - he's doing really well and we have no real concerns right now. Both John and Fraser are growing up fast and very lively!'
I rang Sarah, and discovered that Fraser has cystic fibrosis.
They must be worried sick, but never even hinted at any problems yesterday.

It seems utterly cruel and heartless that they are having to endure this so soon after losing their baby daughter, Jennifer. I feel so sorry for them.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 10

Just got back from a lovely weekend in Paris for my girlfriend Celia's birthday.

On Friday night, we were having dinner in a lovely little restaurant in the Latin Quarter when I observed, with some dismay, that I never get recognised in France.
'That's because the French have taste,' she explained.

At which point, a young Parisienne woman approached our table and asked excitedly in broken English: Hello, is it possible for me to have a photo?'

I smirked at Celia and stood up for the picture, putting my arm around the woman's shoulder.

She looked embarrassed, pointed at her camera and then to herself, and said: 'No, no, it is perhaps possible for you to take my photo? Is OK?'
Celia giggled uncontrollably. I had unwittingly provided her with an extra birthday present.

Towering above: Piers Morgan and his stunning girlfriend Celia Walden in a photo shoot for Harper's Bazaar

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 13

Comic Relief: The Apprentice seemed such a good idea two weeks ago. Now, having agreed to do it, I'm suddenly not so sure. Spoke to my three boys this morning before I set off, and the eldest, Spencer, summed up their collective thought process: 'Dad, please don't get fired again. It would be sooooooo embarrassing.'
I arrived at the West London location to find out who my fellow apprentices are.
The boys' team consists of me, Alastair Campbell, actors Rupert Everett and Ross Kemp and comedian Danny Baker.

The girls' team is Trinny Woodall, MD of Birmingham City FC Karren Brady, Jo Brand, Maureen Lipman - and Cheryl Cole, wife of the great traitor himself, Ashley Cole, or 'Cashley', as we Arsenal fans call him after his money-grabbing defection to Chelsea.
Cheryl and I exchanged some early verbal swords and then her mobile rang. It was Cashley.
'Here, give me that,' I commanded.
'Hi Cashley, it's Piers Morgan, how are you, mate?' 'I'm good, thanks mate, how are...'
'Yes, well, let's cut the c**p, shall we? We need to raise a lot of money and I've just thought of a very good way to do it. If you don't send my team a cheque for £1million within an hour then I am going to kidnap your wife and do unspeakable things to her.'
There was a long pause. 'Is this a wind-up?' he eventually squeaked.
'No "mate", it's not. So I'd give the bank a call if I were you. Sharpish.'
I handed the phone back to Cheryl, who was giggling so loudly I thought she was going to explode.

Working as a team: Morgan recovers after a soaking on Comic Relief with the help of Alastair Campbell

I instantly warmed to her. A pop star with a sense of humour, quite extraordinary.
Richard Curtis arrived and explained our challenge. 'You are setting up a fairground in central London. Each team will get four rides to run as a business, and we expect you to invite 100 wealthy and famous guests to come and spend small fortunes on them.
'Oh, and you've got 48 hours to do it. The winning team will be the one that raises the most money. And one member of the losing team will get fired by Sir Alan.'
Ah, yes, Sir Alan. We were led through to the infamous Apprentice boardroom to meet the monster and he swiftly proceeded to humiliate and abuse us one by one. I found it hilarious, but others were less enthralled.
'Mr Everett, you're one of those poncey actors, right? Can't say I've ever seen any of your films, so you can't be very good...'
Poor Rupert looked slightly shellshocked. I suspect nobody had ever talked to him like this before.
We returned to the hotel where we would spend the next three days, and appointed Campbell as our leader on the basis that he always claimed to run the country anyway.
But we had a problem. By now, Mr Everett was holding his head in his hands and repeatedly muttering: 'I can't do this.'
'Rupert,' I said, 'can you start phoning your showbiz mates and get them to give us some cash?'
'Like who?' he whimpered. 'Like Julia Roberts, perhaps? Can you get her to offer a kiss to the highest bidder?' He looked utterly horrified. 'I don't think she'd do that. I could do it maybe?'
'No offence, Rupert, but I think we'd have more success with Julia. Now what about Madonna, it's about time she stopped stealing kids from Africa and actually helped the ones still out there. Can you call her?'
'You can't... erm... you can't just call Madonna, you have to write to her...'
We all burst out laughing, but he was deadly serious. 'Oh God, I can't... I just can't do this... OK, look, can I buy myself out?
'What if I paid £10,000 of my own money, could I go home then?' I looked at the others, who were as disgusted as I was by this pitiful display.
'No. It's 100k or you're staying.' He stared into space, his eyes glazed with horror. Campbell and I exchanged wry smiles, both thinking the same thing: 'What a complete and utter berk.'
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 14

Social climbing: Matthew Freud and Elisabeth Murdoch's parties are always attended by the rich and famous

Woke at 6am for a team meeting. Everett, predictably, didn't show. He went home last night.
'I didn't know it was all going to be on camera,' he apparently wailed to the producers. Which was rather strange given that we were making an episode of a world famous reality TV show. And even stranger that this should bother him given that he is a professional bloody actor!
Down to four, we had our work cut out - and began hitting the phones to anyone rich or famous we could think of. Philip Green, Richard Branson, Michael Winner, Jeffrey Archer - anyone and everyone with cash.
I escaped tonight to PR guru Matthew Freud and his wife Liz Murdoch's annual Christmas party, where I knew there would be very loaded people to tap up for donations.
Everyone was there, from Mick Jagger and Sting to Claudia Schiffer and Lady Helen Windsor.
I didn't get much money, but I did have a long chat with David Cameron on the stairs. He's a charming and intelligent man. There's nothing offensive about him at all. But there's nothing that impressive about him either.
There are thousands of perfectly affable Old Etonians like him out there, and most of them wouldn't know how to run a whelk stall, let alone a country.
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 15

Showtime. The sheer logistics of organising this challenge have been mentally and physically exhausting, but by 5pm we got there. And I have to say, I've loved every second of it.

Long hours, adrenaline rushes, constant need for quick wit and creative thought, badgering the rich and famous for help (it's been the nearest thing to editing a newspaper I've experienced in two-and-a-half years).
Celebrities streamed into the makeshift fairground. Most of them straight into various ambushes.
The girls had the bright idea of getting Take That to run their dodgems, so we retaliated by kidnapping Mark Owen and sticking him on top of our Ferris wheel until they paid a hefty ransom for his release. I had a quiet chat with Gary Barlow after Mark was freed.
'Fantastic to see you back at number one, mate,' I said.
'Cheers, mate, we can't quite believe it either,' he replied.
Long pause. 'Tragedy about Robbie's new single tanking in the charts, isn't it?' I said.
'Awful, terrible, I'm so sorry for him . . .' replied Gary, with the smuggest smirk you've ever seen in your life.
Highlight of the night, though - apart from the artist Tracey Emin arriving with specially painted pink breast coconuts for our shy - was our Medieval stocks.
Anne Robinson stunned me by agreeing to be doused by footballer John Terry, and so did Marks & Spencer's boss Stuart Rose, who let a very enthusiastic Peter Stringfellow do the same to him.
Simon Cowell point-blank refused (I suspect he was worried his hair might run) and Sir Alan Sugar just ran off, sneering 'NO F***ING CHANCE!'
As the evening got increasingly silly, I paid £2,500 to drench
Cashley with a full bucket of freezing cold sponges, crying: 'On behalf of every Gooner in Britain, you treacherous b*****d!' And then Cheryl paid for, and performed, the same act on me - as my sons Spencer, Stanley and Bertie watched in hysterics.
It must be strange for them to see their father make such a complete public a**e of himself. But then I guess they're getting used to it.
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16

Back to the boardroom for the 'verdict'.
After a brief preamble, Sir Alan cut to the chase. The girls had raised £774,000. Our depleted boys' team had raised £286,000, of which I had personally brought in more than three-quarters of the cash.
But this was only ever going to end in one of two ways.
Campbell and I looked at each other. 'It's going to be you,' I snarled.
'I'm not so sure now,' he smirked. Sugar was loving every minute of the suspense, urging me and Campbell to abuse each other for 20 minutes or so before finally calling a halt to proceedings.
He then summed up both our numerous inadequacies before announcing: 'Mr Piers Morgan - you are FIRED!'
Campbell turned slowly, with a revolting leer on his face. 'Again?'
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 17

It's hard to know how Simon Cowell could be more insufferable, given his sickening new £20 million ITV deal.
But I picked up the papers this morning and read that he has been voted the seventh most famous person in the world by British schoolchildren - after God, President Bush, Madonna, Jesus, Father Christmas and the Queen.
When I phoned him to break this horrific news, there was a long pause before he cackled: 'I. . . LOVE . . . IT!'
Cowell's dazzling gnashers are clearly going to be in permanent smug 'gleam' for the next few weeks, which is why I've booked a last-minute flight out of the country to avoid him.
'Have a great Christmas,' he said. 'Where are you spending New Year?'
'Well away from you,' I replied. 'In Barbados.'
Another pause, another cackle. 'Fantastic! So am I . . .'
The biggest prima donna in showbiz - and, no, it's not me!

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 3, 2007

My Caribbean holiday continued tonight with a lavish dinner on the beach back at the Sandy Lane Hotel, laid on by billionaire High Street entrepreneur Philip Green and his wife Tina.
As the fine wine flowed, and private chefs prepared a gourmet feast, the guests - including Simon Cowell, his girlfriend Terri Seymour and Sun editor Rebekah Wade - began to debate great matters of state. Not for us the complexities of the Middle East or Saddam's hanging, though.

Holiday partying: Piers dined with the likes of Simon Cowell and his then girlfriend Terri Seymour in the Caribbean

No, the burning question, as proposed by Cowell, was this: who is the biggest prima donna in the world of showbusiness? It was a spirited discussion, but eventually we agreed on the top 10 celebrity divas. In reverse order, they were:
10. Rapper P Diddy - 'Oh, a complete nightmare,' said one diner. 'The jumped-up little plonker genuinely thinks he is the biggest star in the world.'
9. Liz Hurley - 'Pretends to be so high and mighty, but apart from wearing a dress with safety pins at her boyfriend's premiere 12 years ago, what the hell has she ever done?' was one withering observation.
8. Naomi Campbell - 'Ooohhhhh, sheer emotional, psychological and physical hell on magnificent legs' was one comment. I tried to defend Naomi, but I was shouted down. 'Piers, stop being so pathetic just because she fluttered her eyelashes at you.' Harsh, but fair.
7. Madonna - 'She has to be in there, can you even begin to imagine what she must be like to live with?' chuckled one of the male guests. 'The ultimate pain in the backside,' said another who once had to interview her.
6. Annie Lennox - came out of left field, this one. But the accuser was adamant. 'She was breathtakingly grand and offensive to me. I was shocked. But then other big stars told me she's always like that.'
5. Katie Holmes - another surprising choice. But one female member of the group insisted: 'Oh my God, she was the rudest woman I have ever met. Quite appalling.' And then the words nobody thought they would ever hear: 'I feel sorry for Tom Cruise.'
4. Mariah Carey - everyone nodded when her name came up. 'Actually has a red carpet and scented candles waiting when she arrives at hotels in the middle of the night,' said someone, almost admiringly.
3. Hugh Grant - all the media-related guests were unanimous on this one. 'If I have to hear that spoiled, upper-class brat whining one more time about fame, I'm going to take an axe and sever him at his pampered little neck,' was one of the more generous reflections.
2. Singer-songwriter Bobby Brown - 'Literally unbearable. A man who treats everyone around him like a personal slave.' Another guest added: 'He has, however, one thing going for him ... He's not his wife.'
1. His wife - Whitney Houston: a comfortable winner. Everyone had some form of terrible first-hand experience of this creature. 'Think Cruella De Vil without the charm,' was one verdict. Take your pick from other descriptions: 'Rude, arrogant, treats people like dirt, unreliable, difficult, stroppy little madam.'
Abridgesd extract from God Bless America: Misadventures Of A Big Mouth Brit by Piers Morgan, to be published by Ebury on March 26, £17.99. Copyright 2009 Piers Morgan. To order a copy at £16.20 (p&p free) call 0845 155 0720.