The 85th Academy Awards have happened, and nothing too stressful really happened. Host Ellen Degeneres organised a celebrity selfie that became the most RTed tweet of all time, Matthew McConaughey gave a rambling speech in which he revealed that his hero is himself, but from the future, and lots of people went on and on about bloody dresses as if they’re anything more than overcomplicated ways to keep warm and stop people seeing your genitals.

12 Years a Slave won Best Film, Gravity won best everything else, Jared Leto angered the Tumblr brigade by winning Best Supporting Actor for playing a transgender woman and Cate Blanchett failed to acknowledge that Woody Allen is basically evil. Oh, and Lupita Nyong’o is not only incredibly talented and beautiful, she’s also a pro at teary thank-you-everyone speeches.

Ellen, resplendent in a white suit that we would NEVER wear if we were planning to eat something oily with our hands, summoned a host of pizza for the front rows (watch the poor delivery bloke trying to give it out, it’s priceless). Alfonso Cuarón got Best Director, as if we’re all pretending that A Little Princess just never happened. And, once again, Leonardo DiCaprio didn’t get any awards at all.

A five-time nominee (two of them last night, as the star and producer of The Wolf of Wall Street), Leo has been picking up Oscar nods for a solid twenty years without ever making it onstage, and we’re starting to get quite emotional about it. Is this going to be an awful Peter O’Toole situation, where DiCaprio gradually becomes a distinguished character actor and then, years after his last nomination, gets an honorary Oscar in about 2057? Since the tragic loss of Philip Seymour Hoffman, DiCaprio is perhaps the most dependably brilliant actor of his generation; we’d hate to see him pass the peak of his powers, if this is it, without ever getting the recognition he’s due. That said, he didn’t deserve Best Actor last night (but neither did McConaughey).

An hour and a half before he lost out on a statue for the fourth time, DiCaprio turned down a slice of pizza from Ellen and her twinkly-eyed pepperoni attendant. If you look into his cold, empty eyes at that moment, it’s hard to believe that he didn’t know what lay ahead – the prospect of another year of waking in the night to sweat-drenched sheets, clutching madly in the grim enfolding darkness for a little gold man that just isn’t there. Poor bugger.

Yeah, there were other awards, but we don’t care about them and neither do you.