But on Monday night, TV's most popular game of opinion ping-pong met the TV storm cell that is Struggle Street - the fly-on-the-wall series so controversial we might soon be reading opinion pieces about it by the actual flies on the walls. This documentary rocket arrived bearing lightning bolts, these having so far struck its producers, its editors, its narrator, its writer, its broadcaster, its critics, its admirers, its genre, its jaundiced promotion and its rivals in the ratings - all before two-thirds of the thing has even gone to air.

And let us not forget the only people who really matter in this debate, the subjects of SBS's Mount Druitt expedition. Sizeable numbers of the area's residents and community workers came to the Q&A studio and commanded the debate, to the point the program became a national debrief on poverty, pride and opportunity.

Alas for the makers of Struggle Street, it was accusations of a poverty of ethics and laments for an opportunity lost that dominated. Pride? Well, no. "Elitism and disconnected privilege shown by SBS," declared poised teenage questioner Johanna Larkin, speaking for 20 of her classmates. "When [do] our personal stories become the ownership of the media?"

This was a good question eloquently delivered, as noted twice by Tony Jones and twice more by panellist Nakkiah Lui, a playwright and former Mount Druitt resident. But a good question doesn't arrive with an easy answer - just another question. "What is the price?" asked Lui, who also advised: "I think, though, we still have to watch the last two hours."

We'll get that chance on Wednesday night, fittingly the night after the federal budget brings the struggles of the street and the straightened national coffers into sharp focus.

For Q&A, the coincidence of the Mount Druitt furore and Joe Hockey's second go-round at national housekeeping provided natural segues, in the same way that when a fish is tossed in a barrel it's a segue to a dead fish.

One community worker took aim at the politicians. While Struggle Street was "disgusting", she said, poverty was real and solutions needed. "Why then is the government defunding the very organisations" making a difference?

The people's pal, Clive Palmer, was on hand to remind us of past triumphs and to warn Tony Abbott of fresh fights to come. At one point, Clive seemed to think he was accepting an award as he rattled off a long list of things he had either done or stopped Tony Abbott from doing, both of which he hoped to do more of in the immediate future.

"I've got more," said Clive when Jones cut him short. It was a reminder of simpler times, when the most explosive thing on local television was the sound of Clive ripping out his earpiece and stomping off to the Rolls.

This time he stayed put. "This is all about spin," he said of the government, himself spinning like a whirling dervish and somehow not blushing as he twirled. He had his traditional whack for Rupert Murdoch and a final shot at the PM, during discussion over the size of the tin-foil hat worn by Maurice Newman, economic adviser and climate-change contrarian.

Do you think people with views like Newman's "should be allowed anywhere within a mile of the prime minister?" an exasperated man asked the panel.

In a democracy that was up to the prime minister, said Clive. Then the kicker: "But that might give you an idea of what sort of a prime minister he is."

But the best answer - and some light relief to end a serious show - came from panellist Nakkiah Lui, again with another question. "I'd just like to ask Maurice Newman, is Elvis actually dead or has he just gone home? Was the moon landing faked? It's a conspiracy theory up there with [thinking] playing Beyonce records backwards plays satanic verses."

By which she meant, it's all utter nonsense. Or is it? We trust Q&A will investigate Mr Newman's stance on Beyonce and report back next week.