In the opening scene of Louis Theroux’s Forbidden America (BBC2, Sunday) someone was screaming in the filmmaker's face. No surprise there. Theroux generally finds a way of pressing the buttons of his interviewees to the point where they turn on him.

This time it was right-wing extremists. He did not have to do much to upset them because they were very angry to start with. These young, white males hated everyone who was not like them. It was a long list. But they didn’t like being called racist, sexist, misogynists because it was all ironic, just a joke, see?

It was easy to see them as jokes, but as events in America and elsewhere have shown, the jokes are not funny any more.

The jokes are out of their parents’ basements and breaking down the doors of the Capitol. They are on the streets, spewing their poison on passers-by. They’re all over the internet and now, courtesy of Louis, they were in your living room on a Sunday night.

It’s a familiar dilemma: do you lift a rock to expose what’s underneath or do you walk on by and hope the problem goes away?

Theroux decided he could not do the latter. Nor could he play the part of impartial documentarian. So he confronted the creeps, and in the words of Lance Corporal Jack Jones they did not like it up ‘em. Particularly the one who had been caught on camera several times giving a Nazi salute but denied being a Nazi. “My friends are cooler than you!” he shrieked at Theroux.

While satisfying to watch the take-down, you had to wonder whether it was also futile. How many warped minds would be changed by this? Worse, how many more might be added to their ranks? Still, at least now we know what’s under the rock. We cannot say we were not warned.

Internet trolls popped up in Gemma Collins: Self-Harm and Me (Channel 4, Wednesday). The reality TV personality began cutting herself when she was 13. This carried on till she was in her thirties, then stopped. Afraid that having a baby might bring back that need for “release”, she wanted to find what had caused her to self-harm in the first place.

The camera followed her at a family party, meeting a self-help group and talking to a therapist.

There were no earth-shattering revelations. Gemma grew up much loved but she learned from her parents, mostly her mother, who had been adopted, that bad feelings were best swallowed. If all else failed, launch yourself into a tap dance. As we saw from the many videos and photos, Gemma’s mother had been very keen to get her daughter on the stage.

In the end Gemma decided not to press her mum too hard on any of this for fear of upsetting her, so there was no clear resolution. It was an odd way to end, but it felt authentic.

A shocking moment came when the story about her making the programme broke and the internet trolls piled in. “Doesn’t bother me,” said Gemma scrolling through the bile. You wanted to believe her. You certainly wished her all the best.

There’s a certain trend developing with programmes filmed in the Arabian Peninsula, the latest of which was Amazing Hotels: Life Beyond the Lobby (BBC2, Tuesday). I can see more of it happening as the World Cup in Qatar approaches.

The drill is that the presenters go to some fabulous place, in the case of Monica Galetti and Giles Coren the luxurious Qasar Al Sarab, basically a small village in the middle of the desert. Having enjoyed much of what is on offer, they have an awkward chat about whether people should holiday in places where there is no democracy, no gay rights, all that western stuff.

Here’s a thought: isn’t the time to have this conversation before you go? Otherwise, even with all the well-meaning liberal warnings, you are rather granting the place approval.

Traces (Alibi, Tuesday), a crime drama with Martin Compston (we like Martin) made it into the big league of BBC1 during lockdown, and deservedly so. It’s a small but perfectly formed piece that goes about its Dundee-set business without fuss, unlike those divas on Silent Witness. This second series centres on a bombing campaign in the city, and so far it’s putting Trigger Point (anyone still hanging in there?) to shame.

In Starstruck (STV, Saturday), not to be confused with the BBC2 comedy of the same name (which is really very good so no harm done if you do take a wrong turn), fans dressed up as their favourite singers and gave it laldy. You might say they had "stars in their eyes" (insert winking face emoji here to show I’m ancient but also down with the kidz).

One lot impersonated Marvin Gaye singing Let’s Get it On. God loves a trier.

Another bunch attempted Freddie Mercury. They looked about as much like Freddie as I do, probably less so because their moustaches were fake.