Matthew Bell: The <i>IoS</i> diary

With all the attached free publicity, Gordon Ramsay must have punched the air when he thought of opening a restaurant at Heathrow's Terminal 5. But the crag-faced cuisinier omitted to consider a couple of crucial details in his empire-building haste. Restaurant critics sent down to carry out anonymous reviews have been unable to gain access to Plane Food, as it is on the other side of check-in. "Even those of us not going incognito have had difficulties getting through, as there's no provision to get us in unless you plan to fly off somewhere after lunch," says one. Those critics who have gained access have been uniformly unflattering, making the inevitable "plain food" puns. Another more long-term problem is that the kitchen is unable to use a naked flame, because of airport rules, meaning that meat has to be heated under an electric grill. Critic Jan Moir says: "Without scorching heat, the surface of the steak just thickens and darkens as it cooks, like a parched leather shoe rotting in the rain. Ridges of fat and sinew are left in the sweaty meat because the temperature is not hot enough to get rid of them." Yum yum.

To the Irish embassy for the launch of 'Great Hatred, Little Room', a well-timed account of the Good Friday Agreement by Tony Blair's chief of staff, Jonathan Powell. Chatter concentrated – not without relish – on the infighting among Gordon's senior staff, cattily nicknamed the "the B team" by Tony Blair. Blair had been invited, but was disloyally offering rival entertainment over at Westminster Cathedral, "favouring God over Guinness", as Powell quipped. Powell has been busy since leaving No 10 – he has married his partner of 10 years, Sarah Helm, taken a full-on position at Morgan Stanley, and dashed off his paean to Tony's achievements in Ireland in an upstairs bedroom in his spare time. Nobody at the party seemed particularly exercised by Bertie Ahern's dramatic departure from office the day before; of more concern in Blairite circles is that he will now rival TB for EU presidency.

Of the three London mayoral candidates, Brian Paddick can claim to be the least gaffe-prone. And the most humourless. But in an interview with Cole Moreton for next Sunday's 'IoS', he would have us believe he's just a regular guy who enjoys a laugh with his mates. As regular as you can be when your mates are Elton John, below, David Furnish and George Michael. And what japes they have! Paddick reveals that George is a terrible tease: "It does get annoying. Every time I see George Michael he says, 'Have you got a spliff?'" George Michael, not hitherto noted for his wit, is something of a stoner. So perhaps it's a genuine inquiry.

Gordon Brown, a famously bad holiday-maker, will hardly have been relaxing on his week off. No doubt he will have had déjà vu watching Formula One boss Max Mosley clinging on to his job. It was Mosley who, with Bernie Ecclestone, successfully persuaded Tony Blair to exempt Formula One from a ban on tobacco advertising 10 years ago. Ecclestone's £1m donation to the Labour Party undoubtedly helped Blair to make his decision. And it was that donation that nearly cost Brown his career, after a book by Andrew Rawnsley accused Brown of lying for having denied all knowledge of it. Brown, then chancellor, came under pressure to resign from both sides of the house, but survived. Will he be offering Mosley any tips?

A letter lands on my desk alleging to be from the Liberal Democrats. The address at the top is correct, but the letter is signed Nick "the weasel" Clegg. It reads: "Following our behaviour regarding the vote on a referendum we have changed our logo." Beneath is a picture of a large rat with bulging red eyes, alongside the words "I'm a Liberal Democ". A democ-rat – geddit? Press officers at Lib Dem HQ are flabbergasted. "Nothing to do with us," they say. The Swindon postmark should have given the game away.

Jitters in Fleet Street as a new editor for the 'New Statesman' is expected to be announced this week. A last-minute bid for the job was from mystery blogger Madame Arcati, who outlined her 10-point manifesto to make the 'NS' "y'know, interesting". I recently offered a bottle of champagne to the person who could reveal her identity, and am pleased to announce she is none other than Teletext's showbiz correspondent, Vincent Oliver. Now we know. Good luck with the job application.

m.bell@independent.co.uk