Well, the new host of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? (ITV) was a hit. It was just the godawful general knowledge of the Great British Public that let him down. This must have been one of the megabucks quiz’s cheapest episodes ever, doling out a paltry £10,000 between three contestants.

Presenter Jeremy Clarkson - a millionaire himself, many times over - made his first terrestrial TV comeback since the “Steakgate” scandal saw him sacked from Top Gear. The professionally opinionated petrolhead stepped into former compère Chris Tarrant’s shoes to helm a special revival of the gameshow which ruled the airwaves in the late Nineties and early Noughties. In ITV’s Saturday night schedule, Britain’s Got Talent was followed by Presenter’s Not Tarrant.

Handing Clarkson the keys to such a high-profile primetime vehicle can be seen as ITV raising two cheeky fingers to the BBC, who let one of its hottest properties leave the Corporation three years ago. He also happened to be rather good at this gig: purring away in that familiar sardonic voice, tossing out near-the-knuckle gags and palpably despairing at the ineptitude of the players.

First into the hot set was prison officer Ricky Holmes from West Yorkshire, who limped his way to the modest sum of £8,000. Clarkson was unimpressed, huffing: “The show’s not called Who Wants A New Loft Conversion?.” Even more unfortunately, Holmes was dull and dour, meaning this reboot got off to a slow, charisma-free start.

More promising was Heather Wride, an executive PA from Woking who at least showed signs of possessing a personality. She was bolder in her approach but it didn’t pay off and she left with £1000 - as did David Fraser, a doctor from Edinburgh.

You could almost feel Clarkson’s irritation as his big night was ruined by the pesky public. He was amusingly impatient and irascible with Holmes’ Phone A Friend. Our Jezza isn’t what you’d call “a people person”, although at least no producers got punched.

Still, the host kept us entertained, even as the contestants were flopping. Clarkson cracked an irreverent joke about the show’s notorious coughing scandal. Never one to shy away from regional stereotypes, he did dodgy Yorkshire and Scots accents. He said one contestant looked “more nervous than Donald Trump on a windy day”, while another was “earning money faster than Richard Hammond’s insurance broker”.

In the franchise’s heyday, hosts of its many international editions all had to wear Armani suits like Tarrant. Clarkson had clearly got the memo, eschewing his usual dad jeans to sport a dapper navy two-piece. No tie, though. He’s not a total square.

It was strange to see the petrolhead perched in a high chair instead of slumped in a car seat. He wasn’t entirely at ease with the autocue but that was a minor niggle. Clarkson relished the novelty of cutting to the ads, announcing: “I’m going to do something I’ve never done in 28 years on British television. Time for a break.”

The show’s format remained largely unchanged from the original, except for two tweaks to the game rules. There was a new “Ask the Host” lifeline, building up Clarkson’s part even further, plus contestants could now set their safety net figure themselves. Both seemed like smart innovations.

There would be no more waving of prize cheques under contestant’s noses because “nobody knows what these things are anymore”. Instead Clarkson electronically transferred the funds with the push of a button. Not that there was much money moving around here.

Clarkson has always been partial to… a long pause… for hyperbolic effect and put that to good use here, skilfully building suspense as contestants waited on tenterhooks to find out if their answers were correct. Sadly, they all too often weren’t.

If it hadn’t been for its new host, this revival would have fallen flat. Clarkson brought an edge and frisson of risk to proceedings. He has the kind of antagonistic personality the quiz show genre has been sorely lacking of late. No backslapping or bonhomie here, just harrumphs, snorts and barely concealed scorn. He’s not angry, he’s just disappointed. And OK, a bit angry too.

This week-long run is ostensibly to celebrate the programme’s 20th anniversary but it will surely make a permanent return if the seven-episode reboot takes off. On the evidence of this opener, Hammond and James May will be seeing less of their Grand Tour colleague, while ITV viewers will be seeing more of him.

All Millionaire: The Sequel needs to secure its success is better casting and brainier punters. And on that bombshell…