Ramsay with Putin and Blair? It’s a Strictly line-up from Hell!

For a moment, Gordon ramsay pretended to be flummoxed. ‘What class am I?’ he repeated. ‘God . . . working class with a big [expletive deleted] house.’

To put him right, I can tell the celebrity chef what social class he

actually is: the most obnoxious kind of snob.

The people of Banbury, oxfordshire, where he grew up and began his career in catering, could sue him for the way he libelled them on Born Famous: Gordon Ramsay (C4).

The way Gordon tells it, Bretch Hill housing estate is a sinkhole, a pit of despair, a swamp of human detritus that only the most determined and talented can escape . . . as he did.

His pampered son Jack, 18, would suffer an emotional collapse if he had to spend a few days there fending for himself, Gordon predicted. off Jack went, pausing only to show us his vintage rolex watch (value, approx £7,500) and his Dulwich College old school tie.

You’ve got to hand it to C4, this was an equal opportunity show. We were invited to sneer equally at poverty and privilege.

one slight flaw in the format was visible from the instant Jack arrived in Bretch Hill. Narrator Elizabeth Carling seemed certain the locals were poised to kill and eat the lad, but to an unbiased eye the estate looked well maintained, friendly and pleasant.

When Jack rang the doorbell at his first lodgings, home to a single mum and her lively but beautifully behaved children, there was an Audi on the driveway next- door. Executive cars built by Germans aren’t usually first choice for the stony broke.

The boy had to kip on the settee (millennials call it ‘sofa surfing’). I’d say that’s better for the sanity than life chez ramsay, where the walls of the landing and stairs were clustered to the ceiling with photographs of his dad. Every celeb loves a selfie, but that man is all ego and quiff.

We saw Gordon meeting Tony Blair, Gordon meeting Vladimir Putin, Gordon meeting David Beckham . . . it looked like the lineup for Strictly Come Dancing In Hell. Gordon kept telling us how grateful he was to get out of Bretch Hill. Not half as happy, I’ll bet, as Bretch Hill was to see the back of him.

A father of a very different calibre was struggling to contain his emotions in The Conjoined Twins: An Impossible Decision (BBC2).

Ibrahima had brought his daughters Marieme and Ndeye from Senegal for treatment at Great ormond Street Hospital.

But with great courage he was resisting the urging of the consultants to allow them to operate. The 30-month- old sisters were joined above the pelvis, with two heads and two hearts but just one pair of legs.

Ibrahima doted on them and they clearly adored him, laughing and gurgling with pleasure at his games. Throughout the hour, we listened to long- winded hospital committees discuss the rights and wrongs of trying to separate the girls — a surgical procedure that would certainly kill Mariame and might well prove fatal for Ndeye, too.

The doctors warned that, if they did nothing, one of the children might weaken and die . . . which would inevitably prove fatal for the other.

Ibrahima was a gentle and respectful man, who nevertheless listened to his instincts. He could not bring himself to condemn one child to death and risk the other’s life, no matter how often the consultants told him this was the rational course.

Eight months later, Marieme and Ndeye are still alive. Medicine is wonderful, but a father’s love can be miraculous.