The most interesting thing about Leonardo DiCaprio’s triumph at the Baftas was the manner in which he celebrated.

At the banquet, the star of The Revenant demanded his own special menu and busied himself with an aubergine tian, a quinoa salad and a coconut crème brûlée with fresh raspberries. We can only imagine the excesses that followed.

DiCaprio is — we believe — a vegan. Gwyneth Paltrow claims that he was the one who set her on the path to spirulina-munching virtue. Once upon a time, avoiding all animal products would have been an eccentric look for a Hollywood leading man. Vegetarianism, sure, but veganism seemed a little... shall we say cranky? (Joke: How can you tell a vegan? You can’t, they tell you!)

But DiCaprio represents a slight change of emphasis. A less heralded screen role last year was his introduction to Cowspiracy: The Sustainability Secret, a crowd-funded documentary that’s building a cult following on Netflix — clean-eating queen Ella Woodward raved about it when I interviewed her recently.

While the film doesn’t flinch from horrible things in abattoirs, its focus is less on animal suffering or veganism’s health benefits (they have lower rates of obesity, diabetes, cardiovascular disease and many types of cancer) but on the environmental impact of the meat industry.

The genial presenter Kip Anderson offers stunning facts: livestock and their byproducts account for 51 per cent of global greenhouse emissions (far more than vehicle exhausts); meat-rearing is responsible for 90 per cent of Amazonian destruction; emissions from agriculture are predicted to increase 80 per cent by 2040. And no, organic stuff isn’t much better.

Anderson concludes with direct invective — go vegan and save the planet — and increasing numbers of young people are taking him at his word. As his co-director Keegan Kuhn put it: “Water use, deforestation, soil, forest erosion, ocean dead zones — all of these things could stop immediately if we all chose to stop supporting this industry. Virtually no other lifestyle change has that sort of impact.”

Even if you take a less sensational approach (the UN puts the greenhouse gas emissions figure at 24 per cent), it’s hard to argue with the basic contention. The first response is usually more like a yelp: “But bacon! But Roquefort!” Perhaps this builds into a more coherent defence of community, tradition and evolutionary heritage, or a more considered agricultural perspective. The fact remains that billions of us eat in a way that’s unsustainable, and we could do better.

Which leads us to a more profound question. Will change come by millions of individuals choosing to alter their habits? Or would we be better off investing in collective action? For there are surely legislative avenues that could be explored — carbon and water taxes, sustainability incentives, advertising restrictions — as well as vested interests that could be challenged. Change is cultural, true, but there’s no surer way of changing a culture than changing a law.

That’s not to say that eating less meat isn’t a worthwhile personal choice — hey, no animal products were consumed in the lunch break of this column. But the problem with our obsessive emphasis on lifestyle is that it then becomes a matter of pure individualism. Of shopping. It means we judge and blame each other for ruining the planet while virtue-signalling our own meat-free consciences. And eating is political, just like everything else.

Macca's no party blagger

We’ve all been there: out on the street with no place on the guest list. The velvet rope. The implacable bouncer. The desperate need to come up with a line that will clear your way. Something like: “How VIP do we gotta get?”

At least that’s what Paul McCartney tried when a doorman prevented him from entering a Grammys after-party.

But what gets me is McCartney’s second comment: “We need another hit.”

He immediately lets self-doubt creep in, you see? A true blagger would have calmly informed the bouncer that his boss, Paul McCartney, was inside and he had an important message to pass on.

Parents need security to bring up kids

A study by the Centre for Economics and Business Research has calculated the cost of raising children in Britain — and guess what? It’s most expensive in London. Once you factor in childcare, education (state), food, clothing, plus a bit of wool for them to play with, you’re looking at £253,638 before their 21st birthday.

The least you can say is that some of these costs are negotiable. The one which is not — and absent from the study — is housing. A survey for this paper found that 42 per cent of London’s 1.4 million twentysomethings feel that rising prices mean they will never afford to raise children here.

Traditionally, we’ve seen homeownership as a prerequisite to having babies but what matters more is simple security. You need to know that your landlord isn’t going to kick you out with two months’ notice, or raise your rent way beyond inflation.

And you need policymakers who don’t front-load young people’s lives with debt and insecurity in the hope that they’ll sort out the mess later.

Hunt has created a morale vacuum

On the same day that he gave up pretending to negotiate and imposed an unsafe contract on junior doctors, Health Secretary Jeremy Hunt announced that he would launch an inquiry into their low morale. For many it seemed a cruel joke — his manipulations and misdirections over the past few months have often seemed like a deliberate attempt to crush doctors’ morale. “I just can’t really see the point in carrying on,” said a disconsolate friend, who is studying for oncology exams.

If NHS workers seem heartbroken it’s because they are romantic about their jobs — why else would you study for years to work in a service which the Government seems dedicated to running down? If Hunt wants to get to the bottom of why they feel so betrayed, he could start by examining his own motives.