Handcuffed: Last Pair Standing review: Hell is not 'other people', it's high-concept reality shows like this

The latest in a long line of reality TV bear fights masquerading as a social experiment, it sees a range of people with, let's say, strong views handcuffed to their polar opposite.

As host Jonathan Ross says, being paid for little more than a voiceover and the ability to wear a natty suit, it's “the survival show where you have to survive someone else”.

That's because, as well as being handcuffed together – apparently 24 hours a day, and presumably in the toilet – they must stay handcuffed together, resisting the urge to use the key which is at every stop they make.

The last pair to remain handcuffed wins £100, 000.

Ross claims that he's “hoping that by living together in such close proximity, they can learn to get along”.

The viewer, meanwhile, is merely hoping to survive to the end of the first episode.

The problem being that, by trying to get people from polar extremes – and presumably by accepting self-selecting applicants – most of the people in the show are those you would travel to ends of the earth to avoid.

And why would anyone want to watch those people arguing with other, similarly aggravating, people?

The only saving grace is Tilly, a 37-year-old barmaid and cleaner, who still lives with her mum in north London, surrounded by a noisy, chaotic household of friends and family.

She's loud, yes, but funny, empathetic and seems to be having the time of her life handcuffed to Anthony, a 60-something businessman who has made his money renting out luxury and vintage cars, which he proudly shows Tilly in the enormous car warehouse at his lovely rural home.

Anthony believes that manners maketh man, or woman, and is more concerned with a person's vocabulary than their character.

Something of a problem for motor-mouthed swear machine Tilly.

The unlikely couple bond over Anthony's appalling father, but the companionship soon wears off when Anthony can't shut up about his beloved cars.

At least he's better than Sir Benjamin Slade, seventh Baronet of Maunsel, who has a watercolour by a certain A Hitler on display in his country seat in Somerset and seems to believe the Second World War has unfairly overshadowed the Nazi dictator's artistic abilities.

He's paired with former prison officer George, a man who has no truck with the aristocracy and has no compunction in saying so, loudly and at length.

Despite George having a mile-wide chip in his shoulder, it's easy to sympathise with him as Sir Ben berates his staff, praises Nigel Farage invites various chinless aristos round for a dinner party.

It's not long before Sir Ben, irritated at George's uppityness, has called for his handyman and a pair of bolt-cutters.

It's all knockabout slapstick, but again, why would we make an appointment to watch people given the chance to air any amount of unpleasantness in the name of 'getting along'?

It also presupposes that the country is divided, that we are all on this side or that one and that there is something intractable about the situation.

But that is not the reality – people want a quiet life, they want to get along with their neighbours, they want to understand different lifestyles.

They just don't want to shout about it.

“Hell is other people,” according to Jean-Paul Sartre. He's wrong though, hell is not other people, it's shows like this which tell us 'the other people' are the problem.