"Armed" creator Tom Forman is pedigreed as well ("Extreme Makeover: Home Edition") but his new reality series is anything but highbrow, as an odd mash-up of "Cops" and "The Surreal Life" that seems better suited for VH1 than CBS.

Yet having said that, this show about five D-list celebrities who join the Muncie, Ind., police force is far more entertaining than it has any right to be. "Armed," which debuts tonight at 8, mostly works, due in large part to the enthusiasm of its stars and the truly outrageous situations they face while on patrol. That’s despite a jarring mix of dramatic and comedic moments and multiple encounters that strain one's notion of reality beyond what even a jaded viewer might expect.

The random assemblage of entertainers, including Erik Estrada and La Toya Jackson, goes through three weeks of training before being sworn in as reserve officers in the Muncie Police Department. Then, in a development that raises questions about the judgment of Muncie law enforcement, they are sent on patrol with more experienced officers, where they encounter domestic disputes, crack dealers and drunk drivers.

It takes time to accept that the show’s premise is not a complete joke. These people are really expected to enforce laws and make arrests. And it doesn’t help that the producers periodically allow their D-listers to slip into outrageous celebrity behavior, as when Jackson requests a finger bowl and tablecloth while eating at a family restaurant.

More problematic is the strange mix of comedy and drama. A scene of Jason "Wee Man" Acuna ("Jackass") falling drunk off a mechanical bull follows a scene in which the cast watches disturbing footage of an officer shot to death during a traffic stop. The contrast is off-putting.

But once the gang actually begins going on patrols, "Armed" finds its groove, letting the craziness of the police calls carry the show’s dramatic weight. It becomes a surreal celebrity variation on "Cops," which is often pretty surreal in its own right.

The cast includes Estrada ("CHiPs"), Jackson (sister of Michael and Janet), Jack Osbourne ("The Osbournes"), Acuna and former WWE wrestler Trish Stratus. So far, each is a worthy addition to the bizarre proceedings, even if they all seem oblivious to the irony of their circumstances.

Estrada is endlessly entertaining in his self-seriousness, repeatedly reminding the audience that he alone among the cast has experience in law enforcement. Jackson goes from never having fired a gun to acquitting herself surprisingly well while helping serve an arrest warrant. Acuna, only weeks after his bull-riding escapade, is pulling over a crackhead and lecturing him on his poor life choices.

The whole show is a carnival of oddities, including a 75-year-old grandmotherly crack dealer who, tickled pink that she’s being arrested by "Ponch" from "CHiPs," gets a little flirty with him.

What keeps "Armed" descending into a freak show is its participants’ surprising sweetness and enthusiasm. Osbourne and Stratus in particular seem genuinely serious about their responsibilities. Osbourne talks with sincerity about how he’s always wanted to be a cop. When Stratus comforts a family after a house fire, telling the wife that her husband, who pulled their kids to safety, is a hero, it’s hard to be all that cynical about "Armed & Famous."

When Stratus's real cop partner tells her, speaking of the victims they meet on their rounds "Their worst day, our every day," one can’t help but be curious as to what the next day will bring.

"Armed & Famous" won’t win any Emmys. But without any intimidating competition, and with "Criminal Minds" as a strong lead-out, it stands a good chance of seducing viewers in its sheer quirkiness.

One thing’s for sure. It’s nowhere near as awful as it could be.