Quantum Leap was a mainstay of my 1980s and 90s-based youth, its central conceit allowing fictional scientist Dr Sam Beckett to jump around in time and into the bodies of random people, never knowing where and when he’d end up next. And Sam only had the comparatively shallow waters of US history to plunder, offering little or no scope for codpieces, ruffs or sackcloth of any kind.

Someone clearly shares my fondness for the Donald P Bellisario classic because new entertainment format Time Crashers (Channel 4) works in a similar way. It features 10 blindfolded celebrities, fitted with costumes they can’t see until the big reveal, transported to an immersive setting where they must spend the day surrounded by in-role extras and historical experts, living as people of yore. Sir Tony Robinson and historian Cassie Newland hover on the fringes, bulking out the action with fact and the whole thing has an overwhelmingly nostalgic feel, not for Elizabethan times (their first stop-off of the series) but for the favourite TV of my childhood.

It’s all in there, from the camaraderie of The Crystal Maze to the otherness of The Adventure Game and the dress-up box of Knightmare. But it’s less a game and more of an experience. If you fear and dread immersive theatre, this is the safe and hugely enjoyable way to experience all that hey-nonnying vicariously without having to look those actors directly in the eye while they pretend not to understand your digital watch.

A neat special effect (very Quantum Leap) zaps the celebrities from modern day to muddy courtyard, leaving them suddenly be-jerkined and surrounded by dead chickens. This is the fate of poor Greg Rutherford, modern-day athlete but lowly servant in his new historical home of Haddon Hall, Derbyshire. It’s an impressively photogenic mansion which fans of The Princess Bride might recognise as Prince Humperdink’s castle. As they arrive in 1588 one by one, the celebs must find their fellow luminaries (it’s the same 10 every week so their amity will build) and work out their place in this strange, and quite smelly, new world with the help of costumed experts and a handbook left behind for them.

First rule of celebrity challenge shows: get the casting right. The casting here is outstanding, never once falling into the reality trap of hiring someone purely for the way they fill a dress or their social media reach. These are proper people all and quite the mix. Kirstie Alley from Cheers is the definition of game as she helps new friend Fern Britton to peel the skin off a boar’s skull in time for the lord’s big feast, while Commonwealth weightlifter Zoe Smith cowers from the porcine carcass, her head buried in a hankie. “I’m genuinely considering becoming a vegetarian,” she whines. Fern carries on regardless, finally making headway with a recalcitrant, hairy skin flap.

It is purely old-fashioned entertainment of the kind I worried television had stopped making. It doesn’t pretend to replace real historical documentary but you can’t help but absorb information as the newly arrived household staff learn bowing and etiquette. From Keith Allen to news anchor Louise Minchin, all of them have insight which extends far further than the usual “oh my God” hand-flapping. Coronation Street’s Charlie Condou takes it in good part when he is charged with hacking a goose and a pig in half in order to make a cockatrice for the lord’s table. Even Meg Mathews (socialite is not a job, Meg) ho-hums and gets on with it when she and Minchin must wash their lady’s night gown in old urine.

And they get on. Even when half of the 10 are made household servants and allowed bacon and egg for breakfast, while the lowly kitchen lot may only have pease pottage and small beer, no attempt is made to set them against one another. The usually testy Allen mucks in and takes it seriously when they serve the feast while observing the strictest manners, desperately trying not to laugh.

The fits of giggles and childish nudging are infinitely more watchable than the shrill walk-outs and hacking rows of similar shows hell bent on “drama”. I could watch this forever. This first series will follow the 10 time travellers through six historical periods and I can’t imagine them stopping there. As long as producers don’t hit that “Big Brother series four” stumbling block that awaits all reality programme makers. It’s a strange affliction which persuades them to take their perfectly good, unbroken format and try to “spice it up” with stunt casting.

As it stands, Time Crashers defines simple entertainment perfection. Willing, articulate people do interesting things in amusing costumes. Let’s hope they keep it that way.