Another week and yet another attempted smear on me by the stained-anorak quislings of Spinwatch - the radical left wing propaganda unit (which hates Israel) operating out of Strathclyde University. A left wing kabal which buries facts and spins lies for no apparent good reason and to zero effect. Another reminder of why Spinwatch's "journalist" drones can't get a job with a decent paper but can just about manage an "ology" at one of the UK's most awful sociology departments run by a Tai Chi-practising, ear-ringed dweeb who brainwashes his weakest students with Chomsky and Pilger until they can bear it no more. With hammers and sickles emblazoned across their glazed eyes they emerge from his tent snorting "comrades I am ripe for stalking a Tory".

This week it's my "CV" on show on one of their tawdry Spinwatch spin-offs including names I've never seen before and an extraordinary fiction of my brief history on this planet as full of holes and malodorous as an off Swiss cheese. There's the usual lies about faking stories for which they have zero evidence but the smear pleases their Islamist allies, who I notice have been having a rather rough trot recently and can expect a very miserable Christmas.

The CV makes out that I've been UK-based for the whole of my professional life when out of fourteen years since university I have spent more than half of them abroad. Droll to see their dodgy funders can't afford them a Kroll - surprised they haven't just put such an expense on Strathclyde University' account without asking (something that has not stopped them before).

This fake Wikipedia of theirs (a summary description that says it all really), "Spinprofiles", is a waste of virtual space. In a world where Wikipedia is not trusted, no-one with any kind of self-respect believes a word that Spinwatch's version vomits - another delusional, virtual haven for the bulimic, dying wreck that is Britain's Far Left.

As the marvellous Sun newspaper put it in ‘92 when the old Left last had a chance of power in British politics, "last one out put the lights out". If the Far Left in Britain ever came to power - it could only happen after a blanket cull of the sane and clean by lethal, airborne pandemic - the headline would be "last one out pull the plug out".

This Spinwatch piece is based on the premise that anyone who sets up a private organisation is bound to mention who its members are/were and will be the first to run to insignificant leftie urchins with pictures, telephone numbers and addresses of members. One wonders if these Far lefties have a grey cell to enjoy between them? Amanda Nicole Smith is brighter ... and (PBUH) she is dead.

Further Spinbotch gems in this week's smear include "Wightman says he founded a company called WIR Ltd. However there does not appear to have been any record of this company registered at Companies House". Next line: "(Then) Wightman set up Wightman International Recruitment Ltd registered at Companies House". (Perhaps those on the Far Left are so dim-witted they do not understand the basic concept of initials? Presumably it was one of their shower who were behind the naming of the Central University of Newcastle [upon] Tyne). 

You have to laugh at these half-wits with their gargoyle faces and their Jedward jeans - twits who without the Internet would still be as irrelevant as they are with it. (I had a Trotskyite waiter the other day in Paris. I knew he was a Trotskyite because I was pin-striped and he embedded a pube in my foie-gras. Also he was wearing mangy old red socks which could be nasally identified practically from the other side of the restaurant, even above the stench of ravioli and my Great Aunt's gusset. Lesson for the day - Trotskyites like Spinwatch stink and will try and do malicious things to you if you are not circumspect.)

The next gem in the Spinbotch fake CV must have been written by someone on home-made drugs. It seems to have been attributed to a bogtrotter in the Spinwatch kabal called Griffin who no doubt is a popular fellow in leftist circles with that last name. You can imagine him at Far Left "cocktail" parties held in youth clubs on carpet underlay where Ryvita and Tightwads cider are passed around in second-hand, plastic Lidl cups to the suicidal drone of Billy Bragg. "The name's Griffin, do you want to come back to my high-rise council flat afterwards and see my stuffed vole?" Could it be that the two Griffin morons are related? (Both Nick and Tom look like the results of a game of Mr Potato Head played out in a blacked-out room, where Tom seems to have just shaded it with the pin-on eyes.)

According to this particular Griffin extremist, apparently I "later set up a website called Westminster Journal to promote my ‘poetry and political philosophy essays'". Yeah, I see lots of my poetry on the Westminster Journal - we run an ode exchange here. What a pile of tosh!

Far lefties should emerge from their council estates and remove the hoods of their kagoules for once - learn bridge, croquet and bowls - and try to contribute to British society rather than festering impotently on its back like fleas on a Bentley. They carp, they squirm and they get nowhere - I feel I have to write about them otherwise they might fail to get distracted, taste reality and have a bath with an electric toaster (and I'm not that cruel).

So, where's the poetry? Well, what with the authorities now (rightly) all over my war of words with lefties and others (this nonsense started by an increasing non-entity with penal deportment issues almost a year ago now) and me being so limited in what I can say about the various, frayed parties involved, I have had some spare time on my hands and, whilst my left hand has been answering late-night phone calls from commie/Islamist stalkers, I have turned my right hand to some poetry-writing for all you lucky readers.

Here is my Ode to the Far Left - a gift to the members of Strathclyde's Spinbotch - which I composed on top of a copy of Noam Chomsky's "911", digging my Tory biro into the book's cover as I so passionately scribed. (When Carol Ann Duffy is done you know who not to turn to for the next laureate nomination!):

An Ode to the Far Left

O Far Left Wing, thou sound of yesteryear,

Thou, from those grimy social clubs now shed

Are driven, like tramps sunk by Safeways beer,

Beaten, defeated, yellow; now black and red,

Pestilence-stricken remainder: 0 Thou,

Taking refuge in your council flat beds

On little-read blogs, where you smear cold and low,

Each like a corpse within its grave, still

Night falls; and you spineless smears sow

You cry as capitalism mainstream fills

(Driving smart minds like flocks to shops and malls)

You hate life; its winners, the happy, the frills:

Far Lefties, bedraggled and few - as your number falls;

Irrelevance your lot as ruin calls!

II

Thou in the anorak with the spot-filled beard,

Crying in your tea - depressed, unliked,

It's true: for Britain is all you feared;

Brim with investments, capital - bought and liked,

Before thine own eyes the system you hate,

At which your ilk once leered and jeered and striked.

Leftie don't slit your wrists; it's not too late,

Red Hatton swapped nonsense for cash and cars,

Even you can avoid your comrades' fate.

Shave off your beard and smoke cigars,

Swap your anorak for Tory cashmere blue,

Follow Derek and drink champagne in bars.

Ditch the Islamist scum that's stuck to you,

Be nice for once to Briton and Jew.

Dominic Wightman is Editor of the Westminster Journal and is daily harassed by deluded members of Britain's Far Left, their extreme Islamist bed-partners and other highly unattractive trolls.

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