I'll Get This: Gargling pop tunes, penalty vodka shots: footing the bill is the easy bit for these celebrities

In recent months, the art of a man calling himself Cold War Steve has become popular on Twitter.

These works are crude photomontages, done on a smartphone, in which a particular brand of celebrity — a snarling Cilla Black, Steve Bannon, Greg from MasterChef — rubs shoulders with Donald Trump and Kim Jong-Un. Sometimes there are Fray Bentos pies.

The everyman in these pictures is actor Steve McFadden, aka Phil Mitchell from EastEnders. The overall effect is bleakly satirical and familiar but the central joke is about the absurdity of our obsession with celebrity. Or something.

What does this have to do with BBC Two’s peculiar new game show? Well, the comparison is not precise.

There is no Fray Bentos on the menu here, it’s all fine dining, but the guest list has a hint of desperation about it; of fame as a waxwork no longer on display but not yet melted down. It is not hell, exactly, more an existential hostage situation in which celebrity has dropped into energy-saving mode but still has the capacity to boot up when required.

The roster is not quite as C-list as some other “celebrity” shows. Only former footballer Chris Kamara — famous for shouting “Unbelievable, Jeff!” — is stellar enough to have actually appeared in a Cold War Steve montage, but I was able to identify another two of the five without consulting Google.

It’s at least a possibility that some of the guests were equally baffled by the claims-to-fame of their fellow diners. Actor Tom Davis, for example, introduced himself as the barman and seemed to baffle everyone by electing to drink beer rather than wine. “I’m a real Champagne snob,” said Rachel Johnson (currently the third most famous Johnson), “but lovely to meet you.” Julian Clary also affected a sense of bafflement.

“A pint of lager?” he asked. “You must be … heterosexual.”

What happens? The celebrities put their credit cards in a bowl on the table (Happily, for those of us who have seen The Ice Storm, they hang on to their car keys). The loser of the game has to pay for the meal. It’s not cheap in this pretend restaurant. “Fifty-five quid for a main course!” exclaims Laura Whitmore (Wikipedia: “An Irish television presenter and model based in London, who has worked for MTV Europe, RTÉ, and is also known for presenting I’m a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here! NOW!”)

The games are purgatorial. There is one in which the celebrities have to gargle a pop tune. “I have a very talented throat,” Clary observes. “My gag reflex is all over the gaff,” says Davis, who isn’t the barman.

Tweets are read out and the diners have to identify which of their number they relate to. There is an element of social humiliation. They are asked: “Have you ever not made it to the loo on time?” and “Have you ever voted Conservative?” There is a penalty shoot-out with vodka shots.

Certainly, I’ll Get This passes the time. But it feels like half a format, and a missed opportunity in an age when we are entertaining ourselves to death with food and drink-related voyeurism. I’ll Get This needs to dig deeper into the larder of the celebrity apocalypse. It needs Greg Wallace, Steve McFadden and the ghost of Cilla Black.

I'll Get This is on BBC Two at 10pm.