All I can say is that I haven't been very impressed so far by the far leftie foot soldiers sent out to "neutralise" me. So far just cub reporters sent by leering Miller, the scout master, from his tent, whose political grooming of students is now a source of deep worry for key members of the Strathclyde board.

While most lecturers are mindful that their students will need to find jobs after study, this Red Fagin is giving chocolate rewards to invertebrate protégés showing a passion for insidiousness and perfidy. He should get to understand the employment market as fast as he can for his students' sake and his own... Seriously, do not let your children study sociology at Strathclyde University.

Take the Spinwatch cub reporter who tried to attack me of late - an unemployed, penniless, part-time student in his late twenties by the name of Thomas "call me Tom" Mills. (Sorry I should show him more respect - Tom's got an "ology" too).

It was Miller's Mills who contacted me back in January, when I was abroad with my family at our finca in South America, to comment on the unravelling Glen Jenvey Jewish hitlist story being exposed as a fake back then. Thomas was out looking for his first scoop having read one he could steal from someone else's blog (and alas, he is still looking for his first scoop as that someone else - our friend the "electronic stalker" - nailed the story without any assistance whatsoever from Mills).

When I returned to the UK, Mills was persistent enough with calls and emails to corner me for comment (there is a stalkerishness drilled into even the minor drones, it seems). He vehemently insisted in coming round to see me saying he wanted to write an article about the Jenvey Jewish hitlist story in an attempt to stop his journalistic career stalling any further. And he seemed full of genuine excuses.

Mills mentioned that Spinbotch was only a stepping stone in his career and a low one at that. He confessed he was only just starting out (in his late twenties?) which would eventually, with some luck, see him getting a job as a journalist with a half-decent publication "when he grew up".

I thought best not to meet anywhere near my house as my dogs can sniff a Bolshevik a mile downwind and the last thing I wanted was to cause them any distress. So we met in the London suburbs in a friend of a friend of mine's house with a red door and an over-powering smell of mothballs, where I felt a suivant of decaying ideals might feel more at home.

I told Tom what I knew about the Jenvey fabrication, which was basically what I'd read in some blogs. But within just a few minutes I found Mills most annoying and weird - totally incapable of listening - full of idées fixes to the point where I felt like I'd let in a Jehovah's Witness. My words were irrelevant - he'd already written his story and he might as well have been interviewing a voodoo doll. Miller had clearly told him I was to be seen as an Eichman or Goebbels - no doubt Norman Tebbit would be Hitler himself.

Mills came across as one of those chaos-based lefties who see conspiracies in everything ("The government are terrorists aren't they?" "You're anti Islamist extremist so you hate Muslims?" "Were you really sneezing just then or did you just spray me with invasive nanobots?"). His head was as if in a permanent Brownian motion but tilted so far to the left that his life could be no more than in a permanent state of roundabout (in Britain one must turn to the right on roundabouts or one ends up in a bloody mess).

So I didn't let Mills give me a full and frank interview - in retrospect, one of the better decisions in my life. Instead I paid him pithy lip-service as on the one hand I wanted him back out of my life and, on the other hand, well, I felt a bit sorry for him really. Also he was an acquaintance of an acquaintance so I thought it might be rude to grab his Socialist Worker, roll it up and swat him back out onto the street with it. If I'd known then that he was a 911 Truther as I know now, I'd have used more than a rolled up copy of Socialist Worker to beat him out of my environs.

Tom Mills didn't have enough money for a beer - his scoutmaster seemingly as tight as his views are narrow. Typical of a Fagin worker, Mills was ill-looking and scrawny. The poor fellow turned out to be still living with his parents and siblings in some mind-numbingly boring part of mind-numbingly boring New Malden - no fun for someone on the eve of his thirties. He had victim written all over him yet persisted with his far left wing charade. To add to my state of pity for this poor boy, I had been forewarned that Tom Mills of Spinwatch was still awaiting his first sexual encounter (which might explain Mills' peculiar intensity as he rattled through the Jenvey story then proceeded to spill his drink all over his notes).

Frankly, Mills came across as a harmless anorak. A timorous Timothy Lumsden sent on a mission by sinister scoutmaster Miller - his brainwasher and puppeteer - who prefers to let others do his confrontation for him. Tragic that any teacher should want to produce a protégé as worldly and whole as this crescent; as mal-prepared for the real world as an elephant is for the virtual.

For Mills is the kind of a job applicant British employers rightly whine about - yet another odd and useless, unemployable graduate of another odd and superfluous British university department. The sort of a person you ask to do a spreadsheet who refuses point blank because Microsoft Excel is sold by the Microsoft Corporation and they are "bad" because of course - and no don't argue about it because it said so on a Pravda forum - they are part of the violent American imperialist machine. The sort of a person who - if Britain involved itself in some world war - would be put up against a wall and given his permanent marching orders for cowardly whining. Even the weirdest students can get a job working for some far out council department, one of the newer universities or in telephone research. But who in their right minds is going to employ a batty quisling?

I knew within a few minutes that I couldn't trust Mills. It wasn't so much the Beckham haircut (of which he was clearly conscious), nor the smelly hosepipe jeans, or even the pointy shoes. More this nerd's fervid interest in my old group Vigil - a bunch of some amateur and some professional researchers I put together from 2005 to be a thorn in the side of the likes of Hamza, Bakri and Hizb ut Tahrir.

People who are interested in such things so many years on really do not have a life beyond cyberspace where they make themselves feel valued by commenting on their own comments; tweeting on their own tweets; adding their pen names as Facebook friends and behaving with their pillows as normal, rounded men might behave with their real-life girlfriends.

So I made sure Tom did not speak to anybody within Vigil and that he walked away with the standard lines I always hand to particularly mediocre hobbits. He seemed delighted. I will always protect my honourable former colleagues, always dish out the chaff for them - just as they would for me - and there was no way I was going to let a five times failed Guardian applicant walk away with a valuable story to give to his two-bit, tai-chi practising, ear-ringed lecturer friend who can only get published by Pluto.

In the end Mills' and Miller's Spinwatch piece was all about Glen Jenvey and his meddling sidekick. I was guilty by association of course - in spite of not working with the former since March 2007 and having not spoken to the latter since the same time.

Am I a fan of the Far Lefties? (You may have guessed) no.