Posted August 23, 200717 yr I thought that this deserved a thread of it's own...I hope you do not mind...move it if you wish but it's the best bit of news that I have read in a while...the only regret that I have is that something similiar did not happen to The Oink..asin LW Here goes: Morgan had broken ribs in 'Talent' final Thursday, August 23 2007, 14:10 BST By Beth Hilton Piers Morgan was nursing three broken ribs during the final of America's Got Talent. The ex-Mirror editor injured himself when he fell off his Segway unicycle after hitting a curb in Santa Monica, California. The 42-year-old feared he would not make the series final on Tuesday but managed to take his place on the judging panel alongside Sharon Osbourne and David Hasselhoff. But the former Baywatch star was low on sympathy after hearing of Morgan's accident, joking: "When I found out how he had his wreck, I said, 'Come on man, at least I wrecked the Harley [Davidson] on the 405 [freeway], going 60 miles an hour!'" The show was won by Texan ventriloquist Terry Fator. Sorry...Forgot to mention about he being a total Bol**x..... :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D Edited August 23, 200717 yr by TessaT
August 23, 200717 yr How utterly unfortunate for him. Such a nice chap too. :cry: :rofl: :rofl: :rofl: :rofl: :rofl: :rofl: :rofl: :rofl:
August 23, 200717 yr What wonderful news :lol: Lets hope something happens to Louis bloody Walsh next, preferably something that prevents him from opening that big mouth of his :D
August 24, 200717 yr haha good i hope it hurts! hes soo vile and he was welll out of order 2 abi on you cant fire me im famous!
August 24, 200717 yr Author :huh: Never heard of him...what does this have to do with Robbie? :unsure: He is a total ' crawler' who likes to hang around important people or so called important people. He was Editor of The Mirror & was SACKED about two years ago because of pics that were published in the paper showing British soldiers punishing prisoners in Guantanama Bay....turned out it was TOTAL LIES & a set-up &was proven to be so & Piers end up being sacked....he is now trying to crawl his way back to the limelight like the sleazeball that he is...so he is making appearances here & there grabbing the limelight wherever he can. He hates Rob who can see him for what he is & I believe totaly ignores him because Piers told tons of lies about him & continues to do so.....he is a total creep ...very similar to the' Oink' Louis Walsh. I take it that by now Osiris that you get the feeling that I do not like him....... :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:
August 24, 200717 yr Ossy, this is why :arrr: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/arti...in_page_id=1773 Why Robbie hates me (and why the feeling's mutual!) Last updated at 22:52pm on 1st December 2006 There are some things I assumed I'd never experience again once I turned 40: a 34-inch waist, a kiss from Cherie Blair... and Take That back at No. 1 in the pop charts. I assumed wrong. OK, so Cherie hasn't puckered up under the mistletoe, and my waistline's no match for Daniel Craig's. But to my astonishment, Take That are, indeed, back at No. 1 after ten years, with a song called, ironically, Patience. The band's extraordinary comeback will be celebrated tonight in a star-studded ITV1 'Audience With' tribute show. And forgive me for feeling rather more nostalgic than most as the boys strike up. It's not just that I remember them as fresh-faced newcomers, desperate to get their first toehold in showbusiness. It's not even that they became good personal friends. It's that in a cynical and exploitative industry - one that can bring out the very worst in people and destroy young lives for ever -theirs is a story with a twist. It has a happy ending. And, as with all happy endings, the villain gets his just deserts while the good guys come out on top. The story begins when I was 25, and the showbusiness editor of The Sun. My phone rang one morning, and the voice sounded just a little desperate: 'Please mate, just give us a chance.' The speaker was Gary Barlow, lead singer of a new British boyband called Take That. They had been created in the wake of a hugely successful American group called New Kids On The Block, but were struggling. Despite whoring themselves around every magazine, newspaper, TV and radio show for months, their first few attempts at a hit record had spectacularly flopped. And they were now staring into the ultimate abyss of the musical knacker's yard - all washed up before they'd even started. That day, they were due to do a promotional photo session just a few minutes away from the paper's HQ in Wapping, East London. "Just come down for a few minutes and we'll show you what we can do," pleaded Gary. "I can't, I'm too busy," I lied. The truth is that I couldn't see the point in wasting a £3 cab fare on a band that was going absolutely nowhere, fast. "We'll pick you up, and drop you back," persisted Gary. I looked at my watch. It was 1pm, and it was either meeting Take That or eating a cheese and pickle sandwich. After several long seconds of deliberation, I reluctantly opted out of the sandwich. "OK," I said. "But half an hour, and that's all you're getting." Take That's old, rusty camper-style van arrived outside the newspaper's offices, and I jumped in the back to find five fresh-faced, over-excited young lads. A surpirisingly chubby and ordinary looking bloke who could have come straight from a bank clerk training centre, said: "I'm Gary, nice to meet you." "I'm Mark," grinned a small babyfaced kid. "I'm Howard," chirped a third, taller youth with dreadlocks. "Jay," announced another, a toughlooking character in ripped jeans and goatee beard. I turned to the fifth member of the band. "And I am Robbie," he declared, sticking his hand out, then removing it as I went to shake it and sticking his tongue out instead. He was a cheeky little tinker, and a real livewire of energy and charisma. During the ten-minute journey to the studio, they bombarded me with questions. They were stupendously naive, and ravenous for fame and fortune. But they also had talent and charm. When they began singing and dancing to their new single, It Only Takes A Minute Girl, I found my feet tapping, my neck twitching, and my ruthlessly commercial tabloid brain screaming one word: "Hit." "OK," I said. "Here's the deal. I'll get behind you in the paper because I think you've got real potential. But in return, I want to write your first two books if you get to No. 1." Robbie burst out laughing. "Mate, if we get to No. 1, you can have a lot more than a couple of books!" I looked into his eyes, and saw a burning, naked desire. Not for me, but for celebrity. This was an only child who had been a show-off all his life, and now wanted to show off to the entire world. A month later, It Only Takes A Minute Girl roared into the Top 10. And within six months, they'd enjoyed a string of No. 1 smash hits, not to mention tea with Princess Diana at Kensington Palace. They went from Z-list to A-list in one clean bound and, before long, were sitting on Elton John's sofa shouting out requests for him to play on the piano. The first of my two authorised books on the group was published shortly afterwards and, more by accident than design, I became one of the biggest-selling pop authors on the back of them. Both my Take That tomes were quite appalling literary works, but each sold more than 350,000 copies. (And yes, I am looking to reissue them on the back of their resurgence as quickly as possible.) I hung out with the band a lot through this period. I even appeared on stage as a surprise guest at Wembley Arena one night, to present them with a wagon-load of awards. And trust me, when you stand on stage in front of 12,000 screaming girls, it can have a strangely intoxicating effect on a man. In fact, I rather overstayed my welcome on stage until Robbie ran over and shouted in my ear: "Piers, no offence mate, but can you f*** off now, this is our show, not yours." Happy days. But there was a cloud on the horizon. There always is. With the success and adulation came the inevitable pop star descent into sex, drugs, squabbling, and money obsession. But that was just Robbie. The others always remained polite, charming, modest and generous. I still have a signed copy of our first book, in which Gary, Mark, Howard and Jason paid heartfelt tributes to our friendship and Robbie - bitter about my royalties - simply scrawled: "To Piers, f*** you and f*** your money." The ungrateful little wretch. His innate egotism was festering and, before long, it boiled over. At the peak of the band's power, Robbie suddenly walked out to seek solo glory, ditching his closest friends, both professional and personal, with a ruthless selfishness that is shocking, even by the shallow standards of the music business. And that, inevitably, was the beginning of the end for Take That. The four remaining boys limped on for a few months before finally splitting up in February 1996, amid scenes of near-hysteria from their distraught teen fans. (A special counselling hotline was even set up to help them cope with their 'grief'.) It was, in every way, the end of an era. The boys tried their hand at their own projects, but none of them really took off, and they slowly fizzled into obscurity. Robbie, by contrast, embarked on a two-year rampage of cocaine-fuelled orgies, ballooned in weight, covered his expanding flesh in ugly tattoos, and seemed to be spinning into a speedy, cliched and utterly predictable rock 'n' roll graveyard. And I don't just mean metaphorically. Then, just as the coffin lid was shutting, he released Angels - which became one of the biggest-selling singles of all time, and propelled him into the superleague of British pop stars. It seemed a particularly cruel twist of the knife for his former colleagues. Not content with dumping his mates like a sack of cold spuds, Robbie never missed a chance to rub their noses in it - ridiculing them in interviews, boasting endlessly of his millions, and informing anyone who cared to listen that he had always been the star of the band and now he was proving it. I will never forget an interview I did with Mark Owen for a TV series I presented on the subject of fame. He was a sad, pale imitation of the sweet little boy with whom every girl had fallen in love a decade before. With unkempt hair, chainsmoking and nervous, he greeted me like a long-lost brother, then sat for two hours unburdening himself about his life. "I was finished at 23," he said. "And, ever since then, it's been a struggle just to get through the days, to be honest. I went from 80,000-seater stadium shows to playing small clubs for a few hundred drunks who laughed at me. It was awful." What made it worse was seeing his former friend and colleague Robbie Williams enjoying such fabulous solo success. "I secretly went to one of his shows recently," Mark said quietly. "I just stood at the back of this great big stadium watching the crowd going mental. And it made me want to cry. Not out of jealousy, because me and Rob never really fell out. But it just made me realise how different our lives had become, and how much I miss what we used to have together." Mark was searingly honest in that interview, and on the verge of tears several times. It was a fascinating insight into the mind of a young man who'd had it all, and lost it all. He gave me a hug at the end, and said: "Thanks for all your support when we started out. I really appreciate-it." And then he shuffled off down the street, totally anonymous to passers-by. I'd seen other teen bands fall in equally dramatic circumstances, so the brutal world of pop music didn't surprise me. But I felt a curious paternal empathy for this particular group. And, frankly, I felt deeply irritated that the cockiest, greediest, least likeable and least deserving member of Take That was the one who'd gone on to superstardom while the nice guys got buried. But here's the strange thing. The other Take That boys may have struggled. They may have envied Robbie's solo success. But as individuals, as people, I have no doubt that they were happier for not being as famous as he was. A few months after interviewing Mark, I bumped into Gary Barlow at the Royal Albert Hall. He hadn't changed a bit, and was now working as a songwriter for other artists. "I like writing for others," he told me. "It's the best of all worlds: I get the money and success, but not the fame. And fame's not all it's cracked up to be, I found that out soon enough." "How's Robbie?" I asked. He raised his eyebrows to the ceiling. "I've no idea. Never see him or talk to him. We've invited him to perform with Take That again, but he doesn't seem very keen on the idea. I guess he's too big for us now." And Gary smiled, wistfully. By chance, I saw Robbie just a week later. It was at the Brit Awards after-show party, and he looked miserable. I'd heard that he now hated me because of all the intrusive stories I'd published about him during my time as a newspaper editor. I didn't hate Robbie in return, I just felt sorry for him. Having £80 million in the bank is fine. But if you get to 30 and you're a self- obsessed, lonely, single, recovering alcoholic, then how much fun can your life be? Our eyes met across a crowded floor. He stared at me for several seconds, his face frozen in a half sneer. I stared back, my mind flashing back to that van journey when we first met. God, he wanted fame then, and God, how he seemed to hate it now. Back then, his life had been so uncomplicated, so much fun. Now, he looked consumed by vitriol. He shook his head slowly, and I shook mine slowly back at him. Then he left the party and went home, presumably to a cup of cocoa and his beloved PlayStation. He had been at the party for just four minutes. I read Robbie's official biography after our encounter - a tale of unrelenting narcissism and selfinflicted misery. He treats women like dirt, is ludicrously paranoid about a media which he has voraciously used when it suits him, and spends most of his time talking about himself to his sycophantic entourage. It seems such a pointless, unfulfilling life. And his latest record just bombed, removing the one thing he did have going for him - sustained success. By contrast, Take That are back at No. 1 in the charts, still the closest of friends, and loving every second of their reborn careers. This time, they can enjoy their fame because they know its limitations. And, judging by the rapturous receptions they have received touring the country again, we love them all the more for it. How deliciously ironic that if Robbie Williams called them up now finally to accept their offer to play with them again, the answer might be: "Thanks Rob mate, but no thanks." Sometimes, just sometimes, the nice guys win in the end. :arrr: :arrr: :arrr:
August 24, 200717 yr Give me a break...if Robbie DID call them up and said he'd do a show with Take That, they would c**p their pants. What a douchebag. :angry:
August 24, 200717 yr Ya well no wonder Americans dont like Piers!! I used to like him a little on the show cuz I put his meaness down to being a pompous brit who adds a little pizzazz to the show America's Got Talent.....but now I hate him TOO!!! :angry: :angry: Oh and piers buddy!!! Robbie is not an only child btw!!! -_- I'm glad robbie withdrew his handshake!!! :lol: :lol: Screw you Piers, who are you anyway but just another money gobbling journalist making the money off of other ppls fame! <_< Robbie is just fine....he has already proven himself to be a phenominal success and what he does now....doesn't even matter! -_- I do like Mark Owen but Barlow didnt do a thing for me one way or another.....I'm glad theyre doing well but will they get into the Guiness Book....I'm thinking......NO! -_- HAHA PIERS FELL OFF A UNICYCLE!!! WHAT A DUMBASS!! http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g107/supreme_album/Smileys/lmao-2.gif http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g107/supreme_album/Smileys/lmao-2.gif http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g107/supreme_album/Smileys/lmao-2.gif Edited August 24, 200717 yr by Supreme
August 24, 200717 yr Before....I had heard a couple of 'take that's' tunes but the name 'take that' didnt mean a thing to me, or robbie williams!! It was only when he went on his own did i find out about robbie!! And thank God he did....he's a phenominl entertainer and the world would be pretty drab without him!! He will forever sell out concerts!!! LOVE YOU ROBBIE!!! :heart: :heart: SCREW YOU PIERS!!! GO AND MAKE SOME LITTLE KID CRY.... THATS ALL YOU'RE GOOD FOR!! -_-
September 1, 200717 yr Robbie Williams fans threaten Piers Morgan From Piers Morgans diary..... SUNDAY, August 26 The final indignity. I flew back to London today and required "wheelchair assistance" to and from the plane. This involved wearing a large yellow sticker on my chest at LAX sporting the word "wheelchair" just to reinforce the fact that I was severely disabled. At moments like this you pray you don't see anyone you know – so of course I bumped straight into two top TV executives from my production company. "We must get a photo for Simon," said one, giggling as I ordered my "special assistant" to make a mad wheeled dash to the lift. Flash! He got me, withered and angst-faced. "Oh, Mr Cowell will love this!" I was then dropped by the gate 40 minutes before boarding and left to sit on my own – at the mercy of the Great British Public, which is never a great thing even when able-bodied. Sure enough, within five minutes I was encircled by a large family from Scotland. The mother got straight to the point: "We're big Robbie Williams fans and we saw that nasty thing you wrote about him in your column last week. So we should really kick you off your seat." Daily Mail via PR :lol: :lol:
September 1, 200717 yr Author What goes around comes around eventually...it's just a pity someone did not give him a good kick in the liathroidi.... :arrr: I just hope that it really hurts....Bas***d...... :P ;)
September 2, 200717 yr Ouch! The moment Piers Morgan broke three ribs falling off the Segway he said was 'idiot-proof' By JAMES TAPPER.» Last updated at 08:29am on 2nd September 2007 If he didn't believe in karma before, Piers Morgan must surely do now. The ex-newspaper editor, now a columnist for The Mail on Sunday's Live magazine, took great delight in making fun of President Bush for falling off a Segway - the two-wheeled, motorised, gyroscopically balanced scooter that, its makers promise, will never fall over. His paper, the Daily Mirror, ran the headline in 2003: "You'd have to be an idiot to fall off, wouldn't you Mr President." It added: "If anyone can make a pig's ear of riding a sophisticated, self-balancing machine like this, Dubya can." So, it seems, can Mr Morgan. http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/08_04/piersMS0109_468x355.jpg Now you see him...now you don't! Poor old Piers breaks three ribs from his scooter fall http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/08_04/piersMS0109_468x344.jpg TRWS
September 2, 200717 yr What an idiot :lol: The man is in his 40's and he thinks and acts like some kid. He is so desperate to be seen as being 'cool' it's pathetic :lol:
September 2, 200717 yr Awwww he broke only 3 ribs ?? :( ... well I hope he's in lots and lots of pain If only he'd knocked out some of his teeth as well, all would now be perfect :lol:
September 2, 200717 yr Author Ouch! The moment Piers Morgan broke three ribs falling off the Segway he said was 'idiot-proof' By JAMES TAPPER.» Last updated at 08:29am on 2nd September 2007 If he didn't believe in karma before, Piers Morgan must surely do now. The ex-newspaper editor, now a columnist for The Mail on Sunday's Live magazine, took great delight in making fun of President Bush for falling off a Segway - the two-wheeled, motorised, gyroscopically balanced scooter that, its makers promise, will never fall over. His paper, the Daily Mirror, ran the headline in 2003: "You'd have to be an idiot to fall off, wouldn't you Mr President." It added: "If anyone can make a pig's ear of riding a sophisticated, self-balancing machine like this, Dubya can." So, it seems, can Mr Morgan. http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/08_04/piersMS0109_468x355.jpg Now you see him...now you don't! Poor old Piers breaks three ribs from his scooter fall http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/08_04/piersMS0109_468x344.jpg TRWS Is that Piers...O Holy F**k...... :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:.................the best laugh I have had in ages... :yahoo: :yahoo: :yahoo: :yahoo: :yahoo: ..the bloody prat................ :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D Edited September 2, 200717 yr by TessaT
September 9, 200717 yr Author Has anyone any updated news on this ' bol**x...... ....just wondering.......................... :lol: :lol: :lol:
