Max Mosley called. Was he worried?

No. All he wanted to know was “Did it hurt? and “Did you enjoy it?”

Not that he wasn’t polite or anything. “I do feel for you, Bernie,” he said. “And Fabiana too. In fact, I feel for you so much that I’m going to honour you with a role play in my dungeon. I was getting tired of those prison guards anyway. Tried leather clad tax auditresses for a while but it’s almost as boring as doing your taxes. This’ll definitely provide a bit of variety. So thanks, both of you, for the inspiration. Get well soon.”

Great. Now we’re a role play in Max’s dungeon. I can just picture him wearing a naff suit and having his earrings ripped off by a female mugger in a Victoria’s Secret bra and a leather harness. Argh.

Lewis, let me help you out again

First there was the hooning problem. The FIA can now revoke F1 licences for anyone who won’t behave on the roads, and Lewis can’t help himself behind the wheel of a fast car. So I bought him a little Myers three wheeler with 27bhp and only one rear wheel. Can’t go wrong with that.

But now poor old Lewis has discovered Twitter. And guess what? Can’t help himself again.

“How could I know that so many people would read my tweets?” he says. “I thought I was only speaking to my fans!”

Lewis, if you put something on the Twitter the whole world can see it, not only your fans. Even I know that, and I’m from before the War.

“But that’s impossible! This means I can’t type anything on my phone without half the world getting their balls in a knot? That’s unfair! If I have a smartphone, I should be able to use it to the limit, shouldn’t I? It’s just like with cars!”

Don’t worry, I’m alive and kicking

OK, I was mugged. It happens to the best of us.

I know, I know, I said not so long ago that muggers tend to look for the soft and not too bright, but I was mainly needling Jenson, wasn’t I? I mean, the lad needed a bit of a prod to keep him in the running for the Championship, that was all. And I did apologise.

And let’s face it, I did say that mugging was more common in central London, didn’t I? Did I hit the nail on the head with that one, or didn’t I?

Personally I’m not easily affected by four losers going after a watch and some jewellery. If you’re used to the shenanigans in the F1 world, a simple mugging just looks like child’s play. But it’s a bloody shame it had to happen to my beloved Fabiana as well, and right outside my front door, too. Poor girl, women really react badly to things like this. And I just wished The Sun wouldn’t’ve highlighted the bit about the 200,000 quid’s worth. That was for the insurance, not for the press.

Goran

Anyway, the Yard’s Robbery Squad has announced they’re hot on the trail of the blokes who did it. Apparently we weren’t the first ones to be given the once-over.

I can only say one thing to you, muggers: if I were you I’d really, really hope that Scotland Yard got to you first. Because I’ve put Goran, my Head of Security on the case. Goran (pictured here in his favourite pose) learned a lot of interesting techniques during the Balkan wars and he’s been complaining about getting rusty lately. Told me he badly needs some practice.

So pray, morons. Pray that the Yard finds you first.

The most retweeted, reblogged photo in F1

Caption suggestions are all over the Twitterverse, ranging from “Check this out, not bad for a second drviver, eh?” to “This is what Red Bull’s tried to do to me all season.” Or “How about this for a tie-breaker proposal?”

Don’t be fooled. people. Whatever he may be, Mark Webber is not a wimp.

This is what I mean by ‘cripples’

Just had a chat with Sakon Yamamoto. He doesn't know whether he's driving in Abu Dhabi, but put it this way, he's still in Tokyo…

— Adam Cooper (@adamcooperF1) November 10, 2010

… a bunch of bleedin’ amateurs who can’t get their act together. Need I say more?

Sakamoto’s still in Japan, Klien’s in Abu Dhabi without even knowing whether he’ll race or not. Sir Big Swinging Dick is too busy talking to a bunch of Russians to do anything constructive for next year.

And Lotus Racing is now not only fighting Group Lotus over who can call themselves Team Lotus but also the former Team Lotus about possibly selling themselves out to Group Lotus instead of just continuing as Lotus Racing. If you get my drift.

Did I sign up for this bloody mess when I promised to subsidise rookie teams with 15 million quid each? I did not. This has to stop. I’ve had enough.

I just phoned all three of them and no, I won’t mention names for a change, but you know you are: put in more money or sell to someone who will. And settle the mess. Or else.

Morons.

Obama: looking for soft power

My phone rings, and a voice says: is this Bernard Charles Ecclestone, Supremo of Formula One? Please aahdentifaah yerself. Yes, I say, I am he. Who wants to know? But the voice says: hold on for the Prezdint of the Yoownaahded States of ‘Merica. Then nothing. All I hear is a vague buzzing noise, like you hear on board of an aeroplane.

“Hello Mr Ecclestone,” he says “Greetings from Air Force One. Can I call you Bernie?” Well, I say, if you must. Most people call me Mr E, but I guess from one Supremo to the other it should be all right. “Great! And I’m Barry, by the way.”

Pleased to meet you, Barry. How can I help you?

“How difficult is it to drive an F1 car?” he asks. “You see, I ‘ve recently started working on my foreign policy, what with healthcare and the mid term elections out of the way, and I couldn’t help but notice that driving an F1 car is becoming an accepted pastime. How difficult is it?”

Well, I say, people spend years working their way up from kart racing, all the way through the feeder series. Some never make it at all, it’s only for a selected few. May I ask, have you ever driven stick shift?

“No,” he says. ““D” for forward, “R” for backward, is what I always say. What’s a stick shift?”

Button gone missing

… And then there were four. OK I promise, this’ll be the last of my Button jokes. I’ll leave him alone with his misery now.

Cheer up, Jenson. Next year’s another year. You’re still young. And try to steer clear of Lewis for a while.

I found the perfect solution for Lewis

He kept calling me late at night, saying he couldn’t sleep, getting increasingly worried about the FIA taking away his Superlicence.

We announced this a couple of months ago: in future the FIA can and will punish its licence holders for road traffic offences. If you’re really bad they’ll even take your licences away. And yes, Lewis, that includes your F1 Superlicence.

It’s a leftover from Max Mosley’s days. Max was always big on two things: Road Safety – his big legacy – and Punishment. The new system sits on the crossroads of both. It does fit very well with FIA’s new mission in life, which goes way beyond motor racing alone. As a driver you’re now not only supposed to behave on the circuit, but in ordinary traffic as well. Unless you’re Jenson Button’s bodyguard, of course. Jean Todt likes the idea as well so he’s pushed it through the General Assembly. It’s official now.

Lewis on his way to the office

Which doesn’t help Lewis’ mood. Since Melbourne he thinks everybody’s out to get him. Thing is, people keep giving him these hideously fast cars to drive around in. So he thinks he has to prove he can drive them. It doesn’t even occur to him to lift the accelerator pedal a little. ‘Braking late is in my blood,’ he keeps saying.

I even suggested him

Stig Farm revealed

Top Gear aren’t only busy suing the old Stig, but frantically searching for a new one as well. Or a creative idea, actually. This video was released as a decoy, to disguise the fact that they’re completely unable to come up with something new.

Very funny, Clarkson.

Fans, don’t be fooled. The new Stig will be a bloke in a white suit. His identity will be a secret. All will be revealed in about three years’ time. Top Gear will sue the newly outed Stig’s pants off. Etcetera, ad nauseam.

Move on, people. Nothing to see here.

Putin is having some fun

'Whatever you do, Mr Prime Minister, do NOT push the red button'

It seems he likes manly pursuits, as he calls them. So I told my old friend Gerard Lopez he might score some brownie points by having Mr Prime Minister drive on of his race cars. Gerard didn’t hesitate a second. He expects most of his sponsor money to come from Russia, so this was a no-brainer.

It was for Vladimir Putin too. Except for one thing: if he goes out for a drive he insists on having a spare car right behind him, in case the first one breaks down. Something to do with the state of automotive Russia. Don’t ask.

So Gerard brought two cars to St Petersburg, and Putin had his bit of fun on a stretch of road that just happened to be deserted. Coincidence, no doubt. Or maybe it was empty because it was early in the morning, before the rush hour.

Or maybe it was because there were a couple of hundred traffic policemen armed with tanks and automatic weapons. This might be a good solution for the M25 on Monday mornings.