Piers Morgan may be best known to those in the USA as a host of "America's Got Talent". He fulfils a similar role in Britain despite never quite convincing many that he possesses any talent himself. Lampooned in Private Eye as "Piers Moron", the former Fleet Street editor is now a shock jock of the journalistic world, a wind-up merchant of the highest order.

Piers is a fan of Arsenal FC, even changing the London edition of the Daily Mirror's lead story to "Arsenal win the World Cup" when France lifted the title in 1998. He does not like Manchester United or anyone associated with them. Writing on the week's hot topic - Simon Cowell does not require his services on X-Factor - he seeks to defend Thierry Henry and destroy Roy Keane for his outspoken Friday comments on the matter. Prepare for some invective from the Mail on Sunday.

I was going to write a fairly critical column about Thierry Henry. As an Arsenal fan, I was stunned that one of my all-time heroes could commit that double handball horror and, more importantly, allow the crucial ensuing goal to stand.

And as an Irishman, I simply wanted his devious little Gallic torso dismembered over the Champs-Elysees at first light.

But then, just as my pencil was being sharpened to commit heresy, Roy Keane entered the debate, like the snarling, vile, putrid pitdog that he is.

And as I watched this gruesome excuse for a human being spewing his bile about the supposed failures of the valiant Irish team and contemptuously dismissing cheating as just part of the game, something inside me snapped.

Having said he was going to attack Henry this "Irishman" then defends the Frenchman to the hilt.

Was I really going to lambast someone like Henry for the first really dodgy thing he’s ever done while Keane’s still alive and, literally, kicking?

One is a polite, modest, teetotal, disciplined, generous-hearted, loyal, thoroughly decent man who has been not just a fantastic player but also a fantastic role model and ambassador for his sport.

The other is a humourless, nasty, violent, foul-mouthed, selfish, disloyal thug who injures opponents, walks away from his country in the middle of a World Cup, abuses all and sundry, and resides on a Citizen Kane-style pedestal of egotistical, lonely, unjustified self-adoration.

Cue name-dropping:

A born thespian, Henry would seek out opportunities to show what a good guy he was, shaking hands with opponents who’d scythed him down, and beseeching referees to show mercy on them.

He didn’t dive, curse or trip people up. He campaigned against racism, did loads of unsung work for charity and spoke often about his love for the spirit, history and ethos of football.

He was so image-conscious that when the Daily Mirror, under my editorship, ran a
story about him partying in Spain, he subjected me to a half-hour emotional rant
about how he was ‘not, and never ’ave been a boozer’ and how damaging such incorrect stories were to the opinion of young people who looked up to him as a role model.