A final whip-round for Mosley

Leaving presents are sensitive matters at the best of times, so Britain’s motor racing correspondents had to be at their most diplomatic when selecting the right gift for Max Mosley’s retirement as president of the Fédération Internationale de l’Automobile, the governing body of Formula One.

What should one get the man who, until he was revealed to have taken part in a fetishistic sex party with five prostitutes, was the respected arbiter of F1 rules for 16 years? They got him a brown leather whip, costing £150, from the Queen’s whipmaker, Swaine Adeney Brigg. It was presented last night at a restaurant in Monza, Italy, where the Grand Prix takes place this weekend. “He has a mischievous sense of humour, so we think he will find it funny,” one said. “At least, we hope he will, otherwise we’re in big trouble.”

Boris Johnson, the Mayor of London, remarked in 2008 that he has the best view of the capital from his office in City Hall, but cannot see it through a layer of grime. “Well, you can, but it costs thousands of pounds [to clean],” he said. “You have to get a cherry picker.” Surely he would not waste taxpayers’ money on such frivolities in these lean times? Actually, say the press office, the windows are cleaned every day. The price is a very competitive £137,000 a year.

Delia Smith, mistress of the boiled egg and cheerleader-in-chief of Norwich City FC, pays a poignant tribute to fellow TV chef Keith Floyd in Keith Meets Keith on Channel 4 next week. She reveals a family secret. “I have never told you this but my father thought you were the best TV chef of all,” she said.

Keith Tyson, the Turner Prize-winning artist, gives his take on abstract expressionism in Time Out. “When I think about a painting, I think about how it can be described as abstract, but if I were to pick that painting up and belt you over the head with it, it wouldn’t feel very abstract.”

Steven Soderbergh, speaking at the Deauville Film Festival about The Informant! lacks the familiarity of directors such as, say, Dickie Attenborough. Are he and Matt Damon, his leading man, chums? “I take seriously, as does Matt, who we call a friend ... No. He’s not my friend.”

Shot on TV but unfazed

The Face: Werner Herzog

Werner Herzog, the film director known for issuing death threats to his actors, brings his unique brand of charm to the Royal Festival Hall next month, where he will discuss his latest film, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call. The film will not be to everyone’s tastes. Abel Ferrara, who made the original, has invited those involved in the film to “die in hell”. Herzog, 67, is not easily fazed. When he was shot with an air rifle during a BBC interview in 2006, he quickly resumed the conversation, remarking: “It was not a significant bullet.”

All the same, he would prefer guests to arrive unarmed.

Postscript

Irvine Welsh on literary solidarity: “Writers always hate writers who are more famous and/or make more money than them. There are very, very few exceptions to this rule.”

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