It requires a lot of luck -- luck of birth, whether in bloodline or talent -- followed by years of strict belief in destiny rather than getting a proper job. Plus, the power struggle isn’t over once you reign supreme: soon enough you’re over-pampered and paranoid about losing the throne.

But times change. The old order passes in favor of the new -- and now fame is starting to look more like a series of elections: American Idol resembles the bright-eyed, fiercely competitive campaign trail, and I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here! feels, conversely, like a sort of impeachment.

So what about those past bigshots, voted in for a second term? Make room on the reality TV bench for Reborn in the USA, a British show with an ingenious(ly cruel) concept: A busload of U.K. chart-toppers tour seven U.S. cities, each week gamely ripping off a song synonymous with the location -- from New Orleans blues in week one to Sinatra for a New York finale. The American audience votes on talent alone, presumably ignorant of the performers' notoriety back home. And that's the catch: They're washed up. Has-beens. Even in the U.K., they're not famous anymore.

Not great news for the stars involved, but great news for Philly. In the show's second week, the bus screeched to a halt outside the Prince Music Theater, where a hometown audience, with good taste and pop smarts, would elect their favorite act in this great fame experiment.

The stars on the stage were shining -- big, cutout stars posed at freewheeling angles, with light attractively pouring through from backstage. From under one branch peeps Davina McCall, pixie-esque presenter, inescapable on British TV, who helpfully introduces herself, taking her newfound anonymity in stride.

As preamble, she helps us get the hang of clapping for TV: that is, much louder and harder than feels natural or deserved. We sit very still while she tapes five-second trailers for the following evening's airing, hyping the eviction of the loser, one of the two least popular in New Orleans who is then knocked out by British viewers. "Who's going home, Sonia or Dollar?" she utters mysteriously to camera two. Once that's in the can, we see the first performer.

Gina G, one-hit wonder and U.K. veteran of Eurovision contest 1996 steps out onto the stage. She's wearing a window treatment designed for a very small window. Nervous, she's the first to perform from the mandated Philly Sound roster, choosing Gamble & Huff's "Don't Leave Me This Way," but eschews the original style in favor of the 1986 full-disco-glory version by The Communards, synths and all. It's all very wrong. Our giggles are shown, no doubt, to the viewers at home.

We're doing well with the clapping, we're told. Particularly Luke. Luke is 4, and in the ninth row with his dad. Davina thinks he's "ace." She also thinks Philly's brilliant. "My little daughter and I found this amazing museum yesterday -- with little shopping carts. What's it called? The Touch-Me Museum?" We correct her.

Haydon Eshun used to be a child star: Aged 9, he rapped at the front of boy band Ultimate Kaos. Now 20, hot and ripe for a comeback, he proceeds to kick "I'll Make Love To You," doing his best better-than-Boyz II Men impression. To schoolgirl cheers, he dashes offstage, then reappears, blushing, to retrieve the shirt he'd shed mid-performance.

Not all the eight performers tonight are complete unknowns: Peter Cox used to sing with Go West, whose biggest hit, "King of Wishful Thinking" at least made it into Pretty Woman; and when Tony Hadley, lead singer of '80s new romantics Spandau Ballet steps out, Davina hums the chorus of "Gold," so we're all up to speed.

Who's left? Michelle Gayle, ex-EastEnders actress turned '90s pop princess, comes out looking gorgeous and hardly flustered: She sails soulfully through "The Whole Town's Laughing at Me." There was -- politely -- no laughter when Elkie Brooks, a songstress with a 20-year successful career, suffered the night's worst treatment: Without the glitz of recognition, she was received as if she was someone's tipsy aunt.

As the showdown looms, we finally meet '80s disco outfit Dollar and Liverpudlian bubbly songbird Sonia, both up for eviction and apparently punch-buddies, starting fights on the bus. (Mitigating circumstances: Performers must slum it early on, working their way up -- no Four Seasons for them. Their experience of Philly was of no running water.) Sonia, now sadly slimmed down from "bubbly" to "sylph-like," grins forcibly the entire time, before shaking with relief as last episode's viewer verdict is announced. She stays; Dollar leaves without performing for us.

Now, we're instructed to vote. Precisely half of us have keypads, so in electoral spirit, the rest of us indulge in voter intimidation. While buttons are pressed, Davina tapes a competition segment: A weekend trip to Philly for anyone who knows who starred in Philadelphia: Tom Cruise or Tom Hanks? "Den-zel," shouts one girl, whose neighbor shakes her placard (Liberty Bell hearts U.K.) vigorously.

The votes are in: Peter Cox wins by a nose, while Gina and Elkie must face the text-message votes of the harsh British public for possible eviction.

Somewhere, the flickering flame of fame democracy gutters. But we clap all the same, TV-style.