The Insider: Punched by Gordon Ramsay

Updated: 09:38 EST, 30 May 2008

Sunday, May 18
I presented ITV's Britain's Best awards tonight, my first stab at hosting a big TV event. Most of my 'jokes' went down about as well as Heather Mills at a Beatles convention. But it was a fun experience, and I enjoyed the chats with various stars on stage, particularly Gordon Ramsay, who inexplicably pipped me to the TV Personality Of The Year award.

'Well done,' I said through gritted teeth. 'At this rate you may even overtake me in the American ratings next year.'

He waited for the cameras to move away, then punched me hard in the midriff. 'And you might get a six-pack, you cheeky fat b*****d.'

When a brilliant young Olympic diver called Tom Daley won the Homegrown Talent award, I couldn't resist saying: 'He could even give Didier Drogba a few tips…'

At which point the audience erupted with surprisingly loud laughter. I was bemused, until I spotted  Chelsea manager Avram Grant sitting 20 yards away.

'So sorry, Avram, I didn't see you there…' I said, with all the mock sincerity an Arsenal fan could muster. To his credit, he laughed too.

The show's climax was incredibly moving, as 50 members of our armed forces walked down to the stage, led by two hideously wounded servicemen, to be given their special award by Gordon Brown.

The tearful standing ovation they received showed me that perhaps Britain is finally waking up to the heroic work these men and women are doing for their country at the behest of misguided politicians.

At the aftershow party, Abi Titmuss was almost squealing with excitement.

'Now this is my kind of party,' she giggled, eyeing a platoon of 40 Marine Commandos marching in uniform to the bar.

First the Taliban, now Ms Titmuss – haven't these poor guys suffered enough?

Monday, May 19
The Chelsea Flower Show is one of the most amusing days out of the year, mainly because the gardeners take it so damn seriously. I haven't seen such competitive ego clashes even on the set of Have I Got News For You.

As I wandered among the begonias, a burly paw whacked me round the shoulder. 'Piers, we meet at last!' I turned to see TV gardener Diarmuid Gavin, the man for whom I am mistaken on an almost monthly basis.

'I don't look anything like you,' I said, baffled by the reality of our confrontation.

'Oh, but we're two Irish boyos together,' he laughed.

Which is true – I originate from Banagher in County Offaly.

'They all hate me here,' he chuckled. 'They think I'm just a TV show-off, not a serious gardener.'

Suddenly, he stuck his middle finger up and gave someone 'the bird' a few yards away. It was Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen.

'Oh s***!' said Diarmuid, shock in his voice. 'The bloody judges!'

I looked to where he was staring and saw, directly behind Laurence, a load of grim-faced men in suits shaking their heads slowly in apparent disgust.

'There goes my bloody gold medal again', grinned Diarmuid.

We had a cappuccino and discussed politics. 'Our new Taoiseach [the Irish Prime Minister], Brian Cowen, is a Biffo like you.'

'A Biffo? What's that?' 'It stands for Big Ignorant ****** From Offaly.'

An hour later, I came across what looked like a rare exotic cactus lurking near the tulips. It was gnarled, scaly, sported weird tufts of hair and some alarming plumage in all the wrong places.

Then it suddenly spoke, in a broad Scouse accent, and I realised it was Ringo Starr.

Later in the afternoon, I watched my middle son Stanley play in a school cricket match. His team won, in late dramatic fashion.

But not before a handsome young ten-year-old chap with flowing dark hair had threatened to beat the home side on his own with some fearsome bowling and the kind of wristy late cuts that you hardly ever see at this level.

Further investigation revealed just why he is such a talented cricketer: he is Imran and Jemima Khan's son, Suleiman.

Wednesday, May 21
Cherie Blair was on The One Show today, claiming with hilarious immodesty that everywhere she goes people tell her how much prettier she is in the flesh than in real life.

I have met Cherie in the flesh. More times than either of us would care for. And trust me on this…she isn't.

Later, I had to speak to 300 Jewish ladies over lunch, and turned to Sir Alan Sugar for help. 'I need a good Jewish joke with which to end my speech.'

Within an hour, he'd sent over a selection of gags.

I chose one and stuck it on the end of my speech.

Everything went swimmingly, and as I reached the end, I announced that I had received help from Sir Alan for my finale. The room gasped with delighted surprise.

Then I started the joke.

'Sir Alan invited the fiancé of his daughter to his study for a drink. "So what are your plans?" he asked the young man.

"I am a Torah scholar," he replied.

"That's admirable, but what will you do to provide a nice house for my daughter to live in, as she's accustomed to?"

"I will study," the young man replies, "and God will provide for us."'

As I said the words 'God will provide for us', I could hear an instant loud murmur of discontent fill the room. I stopped. 'You've all heard this, haven't you?'

'Yes!' came the firm reply from many of the guests. Sir Alan had clearly sold me the oldest Jewish joke in the world (probably deliberately).

I decided to finish it anyway.

'"And how will you buy her a beautiful engagement ring, such as she deserves?" asked Sir Alan.

"I will concentrate on my studies," he replied. "God will provide for us."

"And children?" he asked. "How will you support children?"

"Don't worry, sir, God will provide."

'Sir Alan was quite pleased with this, and raced back to tell his wife the good news. "He said he has no job and no plans but the good news is he thinks I'm God."'

As I reached the punchline, the whole room fell about laughing. Sir Alan, by total default, had pulled it out of the bag again.

Saturday, May 24
Jonathan Ross started his show tonight by saying it was 'National be nice to nettles day'. Then he added: 'Nettles are unpleasant and painful and no one likes them, or to give them their Latin name – Vulgaris Piers Morganus.'

Ross, of course, is currently paid £18 million to ask his celebrity mates such as Ricky Gervais such penetrating questions as: 'So, Wicky, how long have you been this brilliant?'

Or to give him his Latin name: 'Sycophanticus Smarmitus Jonathan Rossus.'