Piers Morgan on Dubai

UNCOMFORTABLE viewing at C4 on Thursday night as bacon preacher Jamie Oliver brought us the slaughter of a big, sweaty porker.

Gross, for sure. But not half as unpalatable as what was happening over on ITV1.

Where another big, sweaty porker had been stuck in a cheap suit and sent on holiday.

PIERS MORGAN ON . . . DUBAI. In which a brash, vulgar overblown monstrosity with an uncontrollably expanding coastline and a ludicrously unfounded fondness for itself . . .

Was booked on a first-class flight to Dubai.

Our old friend Morgan. In his head, the new Alan Whicker. A Michael Palin for our times. A John Pilger for the Blackberry generation.

In reality, Judith Charmless. Larding and lording his way across a leading Arab state, stating the bleedin' obvious.

Dumbed-down, frothed-up bilge. They might as well have just called it Thicker's World.

Though I still refuse to believe cruel rumours that he only took the gig because he thought ITV said "Do you fancy spending a few weeks enjoying the dessert at our expense?"

And I suppose we should admire him taking the thinnest and flimsiest of material and stretching it to its breaking point (presumably, a trick he learned from his tailor.)

But the harsh truth is that, at best, this was a ten-minute travel report on Wish You Here?

At worst it was Morgan unleashing his ego on an all- you-can-eat TV buffet.

Trust me, if it had gone on any longer we would have surely discovered Morgan actually invented Dubai.

Because the point he so spectacularly misses about Whicker and the boys is that they travelled to amazing places, introducing us to amazing people. Yet they never tried to become the star of the piece.

But Morgan?

Brown-nosed a few sheiks, went shopping, met some gobby ex-pats, tried to pull a drunk woman on a beach . . . and brought every conversation back to Piers Morgan.

All the while seeming to believe he's some latter day James Bond. All those 70s graphics and 007 backing music. Face facts, mate - you'll always be more Roger Mellie than Roger Moore.

Anyway, what did he discover about Dubai? Exactly the same things he "discovered" about Sandbanks.

Rich people live there. Rich people spend a lot of money. Rich men attract beautiful women. And Piers Morgan wishes he was a rich person living in a rich place, spending lots of money and attracting beautiful women.

Pulitzer-prize stuff for sure. And for his next exposé? Piers travels to Russia and follows some bears into the woods. Presumably.

That presenting style still needs work though. Constantly swallowing his words (well, why waste time taking a breath when you could be talking about yourself?).

Clasping his hands and then flinging his arms wide open like a marionette on Red Bull.

Emphasising words with a whole-body jerk which suggests electrodes on the nuts. And speaking twice as much and twice as loudly as every interviewee (man, does that not bode well for his new chat show).

Plus, the sheer journalistic flakiness of him failing to interview the Beckhams-but offering us instead an exclusive chat with the, um, estate agent who might've sold them the apartment they might've bought -was a wonder to behold.

Less wondrous pickings elsewhere though. Especially the bit where, as he drove through yet another building site, Piers revealed: "Five years ago I would have drowned by now, cos this was all water."

Only one thing you can say when you see a chance like that has gone begging.

Bloody property developers!

FOOTNOTE. No column next week. I'm off to the Arctic Circle with Piers to find out if it's cold out there.

Meantime, for a bit of fun, why not email me or post a comment outlining which On you'd like to see "Piers Morgan On" next.

I'll start you off with Fire, The Dole and Weightwatchers and print the best ones when the column returns on Feb 15.

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