The FIA's decision to reinstate the Bahrain race can only have been based on more than wilful stupidity - a hugely depressing thought

Drivers will soon be able to make a much more informed choice when buying tyres – and the product should be bettertoo. By David Wilkins

Postponed from last year, Challenge Bibendum aptly motored into Rio de Janeiro

Perhaps this wasn't the best time to approach Mike Tindall and Zara Phillips. It was just after the first race and the England rugby centre had just seen Richard Johnson, his partner's former beau, winning on Copper Bleu – beating his horse in the process.

Volkswagen has BlueMotion, Skoda has Greenline and BMW has EfficientDynamics. These days most of the big manufacturers are promoting an eco sub-brand that they apply either to specific economy-oriented versions of their cars or a programme of fuel-saving tweaks which they apply more generally across their model ranges.

There's a daunting number of tyres on the market. Before you start looking, you'll need some basic information about the right type for your car. You can only fit the size and specification of tyre recommended by the manufacturer for the wheels on the model you drive.

"One of the world's most respected marketing gurus" explains "how everything we believe about what we buy is wrong." The pitch for this US bestseller is tempting, but Lindstrom's insights are dire in style and unremarkable: "Subliminal messages are out there – don't fall prey."

Bibendum, Michelin House, 81 Fulham Road, London SW3, tel: 020 7581 5817

The world of Teutonic gastronomy is in shock following the surprise announcement by the board of Guide Michelin France that a 38-year-old German woman has been chosen to run the male-dominated culinary bible for the first time in its 108-year history.

Last night, in the heart of France, 600 students and well-wishers demonstrated against murder, the savage and senseless slaughter of two of their own in a small flat in New Cross, south-east London.

Tragic chef who reached for the stars

WALK DOWN the pedestrianised lane in London W1 that links Beak Street with Great Marlborough Street, and there is nothing to remind you that this was once the most fashionable street in the trendiest city in the whole world.

IN PRINCIPLE, I love the sybaritic decadence of hotel life - the arousing click of high heels on a marble floor - but too often the reality turns out to be somewhat different. The worst meal I ever endured was in a hotel (Scarborough), as were the noisiest night (Venice), the thinnest mattress (Barcelona), the grubbiest sheets (Athens) and the greatest number of mosquito bites (Antigua). Still, I suppose they had the merit of being memorable. These days, most British hotels are bland machines for transmuting sachets of Nescafe, microscopic bars of soap and pallid prints into a torrent of dosh.

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