PIERSY WIERSY

46 Things It Looks Like Piers Morgan Is Saying in This Photo

"We keep having this problem, don't we? I said NO SPICY, and this korma's about set my mouth on fire. I'll need a very large glass of milk and 25 percent off the bill as a courtesy, please."
May 17, 2017, 12:13pm
Screen shot via ITV

Piers Morgan is that jowl man they get on Good Morning Britain a lot since he got fired from America. He thinks political correctness has "gone mad". He laughs in that way sycophantic posh people laugh, where their body and shoulders sort of collapse in on themselves, and the posh person leans in the direction of the source of the joke with their top teeth leading, their face sort of contorted into a hysterical snarl, slowly growing ever more and ever more puce. His suit blazer really has to do a lot of structural work for him. He is constantly locked in beef with Lord Sugar. He thinks Donald Trump is good. When he closes his mouth he looks like a quiet posh boy being told off in front of the entire class for the first ever time in his life, trying desperately not to cry, silently plotting how daddy can crush the teacher responsible. He seems like the kind of man who can only really get an erection when he sits in the driving seat of a pre-1990 leather-seated Jaguar. You know who Piers Morgan is.

Anyway: so, today on Good Morning Britain, a non-binary couple – filmmaker Fox Fisher and trans activist Owl – went on the show to patiently explain the spectrum to Piers Morgan, to mark today's International Day against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia. It went about as well as could be expected: Fox and Owl very reasonably explained identity, Piers Morgan started talking loudly over them, and sensitive, nuanced viewer comments were put on screen. For instance: "If they are non binary and don't go by gender, why does one look like a boy and the other a girl?" A fine question, Kelly from Facebook. A fine, fine question.

There was also a really good bit where Piers Morgan said, "What if I identify as a black woman?" and then pulled this face + pose:

And then I did this tweet:

And now we have to do this whole thing where we do an article about it, with me imagining stuff he didn't say, but which – from the face + pose he's pulling – it looks like he could be saying.

IN WHICH WE DO AN ARTICLE WHERE WE CAPTION THIS PHOTO OF PIERS MORGAN LOOKING AS "MIDDLE CLASS TANTRUM RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WAITROSE TEN ITEMS OR FEWER AISLE" AS IT IS POSSIBLE TO LOOK, MULTIPLE TIMES, OVER AND OVER, UNTIL THE JOKE HAS FLAGGED AND DIED

"I'm sorry but I don't see why my tax money should pay for their school dinners. If you can't afford to have children, you shouldn't be having them."

"We wear black on her birthday, and we wear black to commemorate the day she died. If you want to be a member of this family, Monty, you'll put your suit on and show Mrs. Thatcher the respect she deserves."

"Hello, sorry: no I thought I'd like Thai food but I didn't. So if you could just take that back to the kitchen and cook it again without the sauce on, that'd be— yeah. And don't try scraping it off and bringing it back to me. I'll know."

"I'm fine with them being gay if they have to, but they don't need to rub it in our faces. Barry Manilow never felt the need."

"I'm sorry, but you don't need a 4X4 for the school run. No but that's different – we've always had Range Rovers in the family! She grew up in Leeds!"

"Sorry, hi: the menu said 'scone' but the consistency is more like that of a rock cake. I just expect a little bit more for £18-a-head afternoon tea. We'll be finishing the meal, but we shan't be paying."

"THEY TALK TOO FAST, JOLYON! I WON'T HAVE THAT RAP-HOP IN MY HOUSE!"

"There she is again. It's ten twenty-five! If you're going to get divorced, at least have the decency not to be seen cavorting with other men. That's the second one I've seen her with in 18 months. And she's had a haircut. TAAAAAAAAAART!"

"I know, I know, it's Juncker again. Gordon did the wine run to Brittany last month and it cost twice what it normally does. The will of the people didn't ask for this, I'll tell you that. I'll be writing Macron a letter myself."

"Knock, knock! Only joking: I knew you were all in because the smoke from the barbecue's coming over our fence. Listen, I know it's only 8PM on a Saturday but can I ask you to keep the noise down a bit—? Monty's doing his SATs. Thanks. Thanks. Thank you."

"No, I'm sorry, but being sad isn't an excuse. Was I sad when father died? Of course I was. But I still got up and soldiered on and sued my brother for his 40 percent of the estate. And I'll never apologise for that."

"No, actually, I don't want to see her on my TV. Four children by four men. I liked her when she did the weather but, frankly, she's a hussy."

"She served prosecco at her wedding, and I'm sorry but that's just COMMON."

"We learned a lot about African culture after a very inspirational speaker came to my prayer group, plus Radio 4 did a whole weekend on them, so actually I do feel like I'm allowed to say it."

"What did you just call me? WHAT did you just CALL ME? A 'clucking runt'? Well it sounded an awful lot like something else. We should have never taken you out of boarding."

"I think some of them can be very funny. Very, very funny. I've always liked Julian Clary. But there's something about a man in make-up that— ooh, it gives me the heebie-jeebies."

"Did I ask for mango chutney?"

"Hi, sorry: we asked for tap water but the bill says you've charged us for one bottle of still. I'm afraid I'm going to have to have a little word with your manager, if you could get him."

"We were thinking of calling it 'The Dorricotts', but that tart down the road has already called hers that. So it's either 'Springfields' or 'Oak House'."

"How many more times: if you don't want to accept these Tesco vouchers, that's fine, but a friend of mine works on Watchdog. Think about that before you come back here asking me to pay for two puddings when it clearly states we only owe you for one."

"It means happy, Monty. I won't have the PC brigade tell me otherwise."

"You come to my house… and knock on my door… and try to sell me… cleaning supplies? Do I look like some sort of mook to you? Do you take me for a mook? Clear off. I know a copper!"

"Wearing white after 40. You can spot new money coming a mile off."

"Jeremy Corbyn's on television again, I see. Jolyon– JOLYON! Can you cancel a TV license on the line?"

"Well I don't see why any man would want her. Two kids, two jobs, out all hours, and she's got that big horrible port wine mark on her face. No I won't come away from the window. If she lets him in I'm letting her ex-husband know."

"Yes, hi: I've been queuing up for 45 minutes, here! You really ought to have more people on the customer complaints desk, really! You expect more from John Lewis. Anyway: it's about some olive oil I bought in 2014—"

"Ugh, out in her dressing gown after 11. Well everyone else seems to be able to get their recycling done before midnight! No doubt she's too busy being hollowed out by gentleman callers to sort her cardboard out. coMMON MUCK!"

"If you want to change your surname to impress your new friends, fine! But don't come crying to me when you miss out on the Lloyds Graduate Scheme, Jonathan Lenty-Quargyll!"

"A tip? A TIP? Does anyone tip me to work 16 hours a week consulting for Coutts? All he did was brought it from the kitchen to here. If he wants a tip he can swivel."

"Hello yes is that the council? I've just seen a gypsy. Well I don't care if they've got permission for that lean-to, I want— oh. Well can you at least take their dogs?"

"Do you always offer change back to people so dismissively? Look how crumpled that note is. I shan't be touching it."

"Hi I'm sorry thank you: this plain naan is a little— hoo! A little hot for me. Just a little dish of yoghurt, yeah. For all of us at the table. Yeah."

"I've written three very strongly-worded letters about National Trust membership fees but am yet to hear a response, so until I do we're boycotting Chatsworth House."

"Everyone could see she bought that cake, she didn't bake it. It's not a bake sale if you bought the cake. No I jolly well shan't be quiet about this! No wonder he left her!"

"You didn't make that sand dog, you just used a plastic moulder. No. NO I WON'T LOWER MY VOICE."

"'Jobless,' tch. Bone idleness, more like. I never struggled a single day in my life, so I literally cannot understand for even one fraction of a second why anyone else would."

"It's either the nanny or the cleaner, but one of them is getting docked a pound an hour. The veranda isn't going to save for itself."

"I— we keep having this problem, don't we? I said NO SPICY, and this korma's about set my mouth on fire. I'll need a very large glass of milk and 25 percent off the bill as a courtesy, please. Put the rest in tin foil for the dog."

"Prisons are more plush than our house! They are. They are! Sky TV, mobile phones. They get support dogs to come in, if you can believe it. Well it's more than Svetlana gets. We let her rent the shed out so she saves on the bus. SVETLANA! SVETLANA, DARLING! THOSE SPOONS NEED POLISHING BY HAND, LOVE. BY–A HAND–A."

"If they are not going to learn the language, they should at least have the decency to show their faces."

"Well I'm not getting a bus."

"No it's good to see you, Susan, good to see you. Though I'm surprised you have time for a Parent's Evening, what with all your fancy men to see to."

"Well if you can't afford coffee, you shouldn't be shopping in Waitrose. Uggggghhh, if we have to wait much longer I'm going to have to move the car!"

"Hi, sorry: I noticed you speak Bangladeshi, or something? To that gentleman over there? Yes: if I can't understand you, in my country, then that's a problem, isn't it? No: no harm done, no harm done. I'm sure another round of wines for the table will smooth all this over."

"You call that linen? We paid £8,000 for this cruise. I'm sorry, but it's not good enough. I WANT TO SPEAK TO THE CAPTAIN."

Anyway, lots was said and nothing was learned. You can watch the whole thing here, if you want. Maybe the takeaway from this, maybe it's this: not every great debate can be solved by Piers Morgan yelling himself hoarse on a cream-coloured sofa.

@joelgolby