Piers Morgan at the Gravity luncheon in NYC with George Clooney

He makes some interesting comments....

Bullock!' I barked. 'What on earth are you doing down there?'

The hottest movie in America right now is Gravity, a sensational space extravaganza starring Sandra Bullock and George Clooney, with ground-breaking special effects that genuinely blow the mind.
Today, a small, intimate lunch was held in their honour at the Explorer Club in Manhattan.
By chance, I bumped into Clooney outside the Carlyle Hotel as I walked to the venue with my wife Celia. He was posing for a photo with a solitary female fan, on her phone.


‘Piers’s new book has got your name in the title,’ said his publicist Stan, standing next to him.
‘It has?’ he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
‘It has,’ I replied. ‘It’s called “Shooting Straight: Guns, Gays, God and George Clooney”.’
There was a pause as George slowly digested what I’d just said, then he chuckled.
‘How much of that is supposed to relate to me?!’
‘That’s for you and the good Lord to know, Mr Clooney.’
He chuckled again.
‘Relax,’ I added. ‘I just write what a great guy you are. More to the point, what a great guy your dad is.’
George’s father, Nick Clooney, is a wonderfully charming journalist who I interviewed with his famous son.
‘That’s true,’ nodded George, ‘he is.’
The fan interrupted. ‘Sorry George, but that picture wasn’t very good, can we do it again?’
He flashed her the smile that sells a billion dollars at the box office, and said: ‘Of course, no problem.’

The curse of the camera-phone to celebrities cannot be understated.
I get asked to do a picture via a mobile maybe three or four times a day, and nobody, I repeat NOBODY, can ever work the damn things. (My favourite excuses: ‘Oh no, I’ve set it to video!… ‘Whoops, that was a bit blurry’… ‘I cut your head off by mistake – the missus won’t like that’… ‘Can we do one more? I’m not a fan myself, it’s for my gran’.) You can end up standing there, increasingly gormlessly, for ten minutes at a time.
For Clooney, at the other end of the alphabetic ladder of fame to me, it must be a living hell.
But he never showed even a flicker of irritation.
‘Want a ride to the lunch?’ he asked, pointing to a large black-windowed SUV.
‘No, no, we’ll walk, thanks.’
Celia wasn’t happy at my selfless answer. Unsurprisingly, she wanted a little longer in George’s company.
She sensed another opportunity at the pre-lunch drinks when we arrived and spied George by the bar. But as we walked towards him, an excited man in a blazer raced towards us, and declared: ‘I used to be president of this club, let me take you on a tour!’
And that’s exactly what he then did, for half an hour, guiding us through four floors of explorer photos, memorabilia and old animal body parts.
‘That,’ he said, pointing at a huge 3ft cone-shaped white object sitting by a window, ‘is a stuffed whale’s penis!’
Thoroughly emasculated, I returned to the party to find Sandra Bullock scrambling around on her knees trying to wedge a piece of card into the bottom of a door.
‘Bullock!’ I barked. ‘What on earth are you doing down there?’
She looked up and said: ‘Oh come on, Piers, you must have a lot of people doing this for you…’
‘True, very true.’
She continued with her work. ‘I’m turning into a human doorstep.’
‘Get up,’ I commanded, ‘or people are going to talk.’
She gave the card one last shove, successfully jamming the door, and rose triumphant.
‘Another great exploration mission completed,’ I declared. ‘You’ll get life membership for that.’
‘I’d love to, it’s a fascinating place.’
‘Indeed, we’ve just been shown a stuffed whale penis.’
Sandra didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘And are they..?’
‘They are, yes…’
‘How big exactly? I’ve always been curious…’
Celia expanded both arms wide apart. ‘Huge!’
I compressed my arms a little nearer together. ‘More like this, actually.’
Sandra roared with laughter.
‘And that, right there, is why women always see things differently to men!’



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