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At 25, Button has retained his boyish good-looks, lives in Monaco, oozes relaxed charm, owns a yacht, came third last year for BAR Honda in Formula One and has a string of beautiful ladies jostling for a place in his passenger seat. If he wasn't so likeable he would be very dislikeable indeed.
"This is Chris. He's here to interview you," says a PR man, attempting to introduce us. It's an inauspicious start. It's difficult to imagine anyone forgetting Jenson Button's name.
Born in Frome, Somerset, Button was named after Erling Jensen - a racing rival of his motorcross driving dad, John. Along with TS Elliot, John Cleese and Sir Ranulph Fiennes he is one of the most famous sons of a county best-known for warm cider and slow-moving tractors.
"I was quite a lively child," recalls Button. "In Christmas 1987 my Dad bought me a go-kart. I got tired of driving it round the garden, so dad took me to a local disused airfield and put me into a race. I won."
It didn't take long for winning to become a habit. By the age of 11, Button had won 34 out of 34 races to take the British Karting Championships. He was three times British Open Kart champion, winner of the Ayrton Senna Memorial Cup and the youngest ever winner of the European Supercup A title.
Karting provided the perfect launch into Formula Ford in 1998 Formula Three (winner of the Rookie of the Year Award) and Formula One where he was the youngest driver on the grid for the opening Grand Prix of the 2000 season. “It’s still the proudest moment of my life so far,” he says.
Does he still enjoy karting now? “Every now and again. But not proper karts; just fun ones. And I certainly didn’t go karting on my stag weekend.”
Of course, as any lovelorn devotee of the tabloid gossip columns will know, that stag weekend never materialised into a wedding. Menstrual cycles across the Western world re-synchronised in May 2005 when Button broke up with fiancée Louise Griffiths – a former Fame Academy contestant. The glamorous couple were often described as the Posh ‘n’ Becks of the racing circuit.
“David Coulthard has been helping me out since I became single,” says Button. “He’s a good guy and I like him a lot. He’s a very close friend.”
Cynics might wonder whether Button really needs any “helping out”. Since his split the tabloids have reported him cosying up to socialite Beverley Bloom, 29, in Boujis, South Kensington. He has also been spotted with Craig David’s former squeeze, Welsh athlete Emma Davies, in Raffles. On 28th June the Sun’s showbiz Bizarre column put him as the new leader of their “Shaggers League” – above David Walliams and Calum Best. “I saw that article,” says Button, unsure if this is the kind of pole position he wants. “I don’t know where they get it from.”
Indeed, Button appears somewhat bemused by the press attention that comes with the playboy-racer territory. “I don’t go out in London that often. But it seems that every night I do it’s in the newspapers. They get where I go correct but who I’m with is normally absolute rubbish.. It’s a little bit annoying. It’s not very nice for friends of mine or people I’ve been in past relationships with. But you can’t change that really. You’ve just got to be careful.”
Button has attracted negative press in the past for his flamboyant lifestyle. Mika Hakkinen once criticised him for being too big for his boots. “I’ve never been a Button supporter,” sneered Bernie Ecclestone in 2003.
But his performances in 2004 showed his critics that he could become a serious contender. In a year of firsts – first pole position, first second place finish, first third place finish – he appeared on the podium ten times in total. He finished in third place in the Formula One Drivers’ Championship with only the Ferrari drivers in front of him.
2005, on the other hand, has had its ups and downs. Button was stripped of his points for finishing third at the San Marino Grand Prix at Imola in April after BAR Honda were found guilty of running his car underweight. He struggled on his return at the Nurburgring, finishing tenth. And then after clinching a surprise pole position at the Canadian GP he crashed out on the 47th lap.
But if there’s one thing Button doesn’t lack its motivation. “I put a lot of pressure on myself,” he says. “It’s the same for everyone. Everyone wants to be World Champion. And then after that I want to be World Champion two years in a row. And then three.” He seems determined not to become the Tim Henman of motorsport.
He also appears to be almost entirely fearless. “Scared doesn’t really come into my vocabulary,” he says. “If I’m scared of anything it’s spiders. And not achieving – that’s pretty scary, too.”
When Button crashed into a wall at 180mph in Monaco in 2003 it is estimated that he was pulling 30Gs – enough to distort your facial features and swell your internal organs to more than half their normal size for a split-second.
Most people would have found that pretty scary. But when the rescue team rushed over he was laughing. “I don’t know why,” he says. “It was probably sheer relief. I couldn’t feel anything. They cut up my sleeves and put needles into me. They pumped lots of stuff into me. I don’t know what it was, but it felt great.”
Button’s only injuries were a banged knee and a bruised ankle – the kind of damage ordinary people sustain climbing out of bed at 1mph in the morning.
One of the most frequent accusations levied against Formula One is that it’s becoming too boring. The Formula is too formulaic, if you like. Cars overshadow drivers. Arguments over tyre regulations ruin the experience for the fans. And money dominates all. Not so much Vorsprung durch Technik as Boredom durch Technik.
Naturally, Button rejects these claims. “If we were overtaking at every corner it would get pretty boring after a while,” he says. He’s also keen to stress the team element of the sport. It’s not all about the drivers. “We’re the guys you see on TV a lot, but there are 600 other people behind us.”
Button is also concerned that the media seldom gets to understand the real characters behind the sport. “When we’re relaxed – maybe after a race – we’ll go and have a party or something. Most of the guys are a lot of fun. You don’t see that in interviews. It’s a pain, really. It would be good to get the drivers’ personalities out a little bit more.”
Button, himself – a man who clearly doesn’t lack personality – appears effortlessly relaxed in his skin, exchanging idle banter about his lack of talent on the dancefloor: “I think I’m great, but I’ve been told I’m rubbish. Then again, if you can dance and people laugh you’re onto a winner.”
He has the infectious enthusiasm of someone who loves his job. Can he imagine doing anything else? “I haven’t got a clue. But it would have to be something pretty crazy. I get bored so easily.”
And the future? It’s difficult to envisage him promoting impotence products like Sir Stirling Moss. “I don’t want to plan too much,” he says. “I’m just living in the moment.”
And with that, he bounces off with a smile and a polite handshake to carpe the rest of the diem.