Benefits for the rich - or as Jones put it, "just take people like my own self" - were savaged. "I just think it's ludicrous someone like me can go to a hospital for nothing," he declared. Rapacious mining companies copped a belting, as did the water-poisoning habits of the fracking brigade. And finally, Jones delivered an impassioned, impeccably progressive attack on the death penalty in the emotional concluding discussion of the Bali nine death sentences. For the last of several times, he was greeted with applause. He appeared to enjoy himself immensely, waxing lyrical and at great length at every invitation and sometimes without one. Tony Jones must have known he didn't have a hope of enforcing time limits. "Briefly Alan…" he said optimistically at one point, prompting a reply that seemed to last 17 minutes. Alan was in his element: a captive audience and two captive politicians. Labor's Chris Bowen wasn't going to be bullied. "Alan, this is not morning radio. Other people get a go." Alan smiled at this impertinence and sipped his water demurely. The Liberal MP Jamie Briggs didn't fare as well, exhibiting the familiar terror seen in conservative politicians when Jones is in headmaster mode and thinks they should pull their socks up. When Tony Jones pushed Briggs to sign on to some of Alan's economic prescriptions, the MP had the look of a man who wished he was somewhere more relaxing, like a burning house. "Say yes, Jamie," Alan exhorted him. Later he advised Briggs: "This is really hard-nosed stuff, Jamie!"

All one could think was: Poor Jamie. All avenues of escape blocked by a scary Jones to the left of him and a scary Jones to the right, Briggs settled on a one-liner. "We're always told we have to agree with Alan," said the Assistant Minister for Letting the Cat Out Of The Bag. Poor Jamie. He'll be hearing that one on a loop for the rest of his days. There were also two women on the panel, including the distractingly sensible Heather Ridout, nominally representing the big end of town but winning hearts and minds with her plans for a "Normal People's Party". The comedian and writer Corinne Grant found herself seated next to Alan, an odd-couple pairing that delivered a highlight. Jones had just rattled off an endless list of figures to illustrate his economic arguments, prompting the Grant rejoinder: "Alan brought out so many numbers now I'm waiting for someone to yell out 'Bingo'." This gag delighted Alan, who beamed like Bert Newton at the Logies. One sensed a Jones soft-spot for Corinne that poor Jamie could only envy. It is, of course, always best to be on Alan's good side. The Jones flair, sharp tongue and broadcasting brilliance are all well and good, until you're on the receiving end. Many have been there - Malcolm Turnbull, for one, who copped a fresh serve in the wake of his non-challenge for the Liberal leadership. Alan said that if Turnbull were to become PM, "I would hope he would change". This advice followed an admonition to the nation to get behind Tony Abbott. "I think it's incumbent on us all to support the Prime Minister", no matter who they were, he declared.

And with that, all Alan's other good works were undone, the charm offensive all for nought, as we remembered the other Alan Jones. Was the man who branded Julia Gillard "Juliar", who proposed she be dumped at sea in a chaff bag, who suggested her father had "died of shame", really demanding bipartisan respect for whoever held the office of Prime Minister? He was indeed. With admirable restraint, Chris Bowen put it best. "That's a bit rich," he told Alan, who as is his wont carried on regardless.