Leo’s pal: Lingerie model Roxy Horner

Leonardo DiCaprio flew to London to attend the Bafta awards on Sunday evening. There he was, his handsome face frozen in that familiar expression of chilly detachment, his pale eyes as cold as pebbles as the flashbulbs exploded around his head.

From the top of his gelled hair to the tips of his patent slippers, DiCaprio exuded a victor’s certitude from the moment he stepped on to the red carpet. Indeed, he went on to win the best actor award for his portrayal of a frontier fur-trapper in The Revenant, a role for which he is hotly-tipped to win — at last! — an Oscar.

Certainly, it’s his grittiest film to date. His character survives being buried alive and attacked by a bear — but to be honest, some of us who’ve seen the movie feel that it was the bear who gave the more nuanced performance.

Leonardo just grunts and groans through much of the film, crawling around half-naked and wheezing away with chapped lips for all he is worth. Exactly as he does in his private life.

For at the age of 41, Leonardo DiCaprio has become Hollywood’s number one toxic bachelor, its biggest lothario and most wretchedly dedicated modeliser.

His carnal appetite seems to be incorrigible, his taste in women immutable. His famous preference is for box-fresh blondes aged 25 and under — usually lingerie models, but any random glamourpuss will do at a pinch. He replaces this much-loved prototype as frequently as some men change their socks.

After the Bafta show, the goatish star latched on to Irish television presenter Laura Whitmore, who went back to his hotel suite with others. The next evening he partied at London’s trendy Chiltern Firehouse with 24-year-old lingerie model Roxy Horner, who was also invited back to his hotel.

And why not? Our boy is unattached and at a loose end after ending a six-month relationship with girlfriend Kelly Rohrbach. Their break-up came shortly before the blonde swimsuit model celebrated her 26th birthday. Coincidence or strategy?

DiCaprio is the kind of man who blows in like a desert wind, then disappears into the dust before there is time to friend him on Facebook.

The list of gorgeous girls grows longer every year, unfurling in his slipstream like the pretty ribbons on a kite.

Some might argue he is a handsome Hollywood millionaire with his pick of willing beauties. If he can’t behave like an emperor of lust, then who can?

Yet what is acceptable at the age of 21 just starts to look sad and seedy two decades on.

If Leo is not careful, he will end up like Jack Nicholson, the former wolfish Romeo who now rattles around his big Hollywood house on Mulholland Drive, watching box-sets and DVDs alone with no one to fuss over him in his twilight years.

Or, even worse, like Hugh Grant. The 55-year-old former heartthrob now has four children under the age of five by two different women, but still can’t commit to anyone except his gorgeous self. In addition, he still spends a ghoulish amount of time with his ex, Liz Hurley.

Even George Clooney settled down and got married! Surely DiCaprio can do better than this?

At the age of 41, Leonardo DiCaprio has become Hollywood’s number one toxic bachelor, its biggest lothario and most wretchedly dedicated modeliser, writes JAN MOIR

Yet no one can match his devotion to the pursuit of the perfect blonde.

To date, he has only had two long term-relationships, each lasted five years and the last one ended a decade ago.

The first was with supermodel Gisele Bundchen, the second with supermodel Bar Refaeli. Both women went on to marry and start families. Meanwhile, Leo remains stuck in the aspic of his lasciviousness, bouncing around like a toddler in a particularly well-stocked sweet shop.

His recent parade of pretties has included the actress Blake Lively, assorted Victoria’s Secret models and an 18-month relationship with German model Toni Garrn. In between these frangible attachments he is seen posing on yachts or lying on white sand beaches in St Barts, surrounded by a harem of beautiful women vying for his attention.

And despite this, he always looks as miserable as a man stuck at a Luton bus stop on a wet bank holiday.

Many might envy his lifestyle, but be careful what you wish for. Don’t laugh, but there is clearly a sadness and emptiness to it; DiCaprio is like a butterfly collector who becomes less satisfied with each enchanted specimen.

For, ultimately, all that beauty must corrode the soul, especially as he seems not to be interested in intellect or personality, kindness and wit. Instead, there is only the eternal chase for a vision of physical perfection; a pursuit that is becoming more unbecoming with every year that passes.

Count up all the strangers and stragglers that he has kissed, the notches and misses, the sincerity that is at the very bottom of his list and what does it all add up to? Nothing very much. Not a patch on companionship, love and the deep comfort of fidelity and trust.

Perhaps such flightiness is only to be expected from a celebrity, self-professed environmentalist who hypocritically spends most of his time on superyachts, flying around the world on private jets and accumulating a collection of carbon-intensive mega-mansion homes.

While, of course, constantly lecturing everyone else that ‘climate change is humankind’s greatest challenge’. He can’t commit to a proper cause and he can’t commit to a real woman — with one honourable exception. Leonardo DiCaprio’s first love, and quite possibly his last, is his beloved mother, Irmelin.

She often accompanies him on the red carpet and he pays fulsome tributes to her in his acceptance speeches.

He is an only child and, boy, does it show. For Leonardo DiCaprio has everything; all the success, all the riches and all the most beautiful women in the world, but nothing seems to make him happy.

He’s Hollywood’s indulged Peter Pan. I just hope he grows up before it’s too late.

Blake’s leg-crossing crime against fashion

News from the fashion world. Off-the-shoulder is in. Tight is out. Baggy-cropped is the way to go. Coral is the colour of the moment.

And at the Michael Kors show in New York, the maestro unveiled a fur bag he has designed to please his rich clients. ‘It keeps their money warm,’ he chortled.

Meanwhile, there was controversy on the Kors front row as former Gossip Girl star Blake Lively broke fashion etiquette by refusing to uncross her legs.

Former Gossip Girl star Blake Lively, pictured with Riley Keough, Elvis Presley’s granddaughter, broke fashion etiquette by refusing to uncross her legs

Cue meltdown as photographers complained that her foot was casting a shadow on the catwalk and other fashionistas tutted in disgust.

One might have hoped that the fashion world would concern itself with serious issues, such as the plight of sweatshop workers in India or the continued promotion of size-zero models, but not a bit of it.

PS. Next to Blake, who does that beautiful girl with the haunting face (and also rebelling by crossing her legs) remind you of?

Her name is Riley Keough — and she’s Elvis Presley’s granddaughter.

Emma Thompson has been accused of insulting our green and pleasant land, writes JAN MOIR

20 reasons Emma should shut her cakehole

Emma Thompson has been accused of insulting our green and pleasant land after describing the UK as ‘a cake-filled misery-laden grey old island’.

Emma, how could you? In no special order, here are 20 things, not all of them cake-based, that make Britain great.

1. Tea and toast on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

2. Having a moan.

3. Trooping The Colour.

4. Comforting lack of killer insects, poisonous snakes and scary critters.

5. The Antiques Roadshow.

6. Forming a uni-queue in the bank for different kiosks. No one tells us, we just do it.

7. Scones.

8. Talking about the weather. Why not? It is fascinating and there is always someone around who feels the same way.

Parky out? Brass monkeys? Raining cats and dogs? We love it all.

9. Morecambe & Wise.

10. From Cornwall to Caithness, the glorious, gorgeous British countryside.

11. General fondness for The Great British Bake Off.

12. Polite drivers. A flash of headlights to say thank you. ‘No, after you,’ when turning into a car park. It gladdens a weary heart.

13. Lemon drizzle.

14. The Queen.

15. Not saying what you mean, saying the opposite of what you mean, knowing that everyone will understand anyway.

16. Still being a bit suspicious about duvets. And cheese that’s not cheddar.

17. Don’t tell him, Pike!

18. Emma Thompson crying in the film Love Actually.

19. The National Trust in general, the South West Coast Path in particular.

20. Sir Winston Churchill, who once said: ‘We have our own dream and our own task. We are with Europe, but not of it. We are linked but not combined. We are interested and associated but not absorbed. If Britain must choose between Europe and the open sea, she must always choose the open sea.’

Oh, my eyes. Aargh, my ears. There have been a lot of dubious David Bowie tributes in recent weeks, but none as bad as Lady Gaga’s musical accolade during the Grammys.

I love Gaga’s quirky brilliance, but this was awful. Couldn’t someone have stopped her?

The crazy cavalcade of costumes, the pantomime Bowie make-up, the skipping about on stage, the entire tight-twisting, knicker-knotting performance. Watching from behind the sofa, it reminded me of something — but what? Eventually, the memory swam up to the surface.

It was of Peter Glaze, Stewpot and the gang doing the ridiculous end-of-show musical number on the late lamented Crackerjack, the Friday tea-time kids’ show that my generation loved.

Would Lady Gaga have won a coveted Crackerjack pencil (the innocence!) for her performance? I don’t think so.

Tesco’s gone round the bend

Tesco is to stop selling curved croissants because people find them too difficult to butter.

What people? The same ‘people’ who need to have LEFT and RIGHT written on their turn-down wellingtons and who think a prawn cocktail is a drink?

The clue is in the name, baked goods fiends! ‘Croissant’ means ‘crescent’ in French. If Tesco wants to change the shape, it will have to give it a new name — something like the new Straightee Flakee Pastry. Oh, God. They probably already have.

Who puts butter on a croissant, anyway? The whole point of the thing is that it is already pre-loaded with butter, in the same way that a gun-ship is bristling with cannons. And is equally as dangerous.