Oh, oh! Looks like Andrew “Batshit” Mitrovica is off his meds again.
From his tinfoil-lined office at Sheridan College J-Skool, the self-appointed guru of investigative journalism has fired off yet another round of unhinged tweets at former friends and colleagues.
Mitro’s latest tantrum was aimed at the poor saps at iPolitics, where the Albanian nutter wrote a media column, until his abrupt disappearance last year.
Mitro finally solved the mystery of that departure last month, tweeting that iPolitics had become a snakepit of incestuous Ottawa politics: “[I] left ipoliticsca [because it’s] where pals call their Ottawa pals’ chats with hate merchants [Ann Coulter] just a silly little ‘mistake.’”
Of course, the real reason for Mitro’s exit was because he’s a splenetic dick, and he’d been up to the same type of ashtray-heaving shitfits that paved his way out of CBC’s fifth estate and CTV’s W5.
This time it was an iPolitics editor who asked Mitro if he might consider writing a column that week on someone other than Amanda Lang, his obsession du jour. He ignored the request and carried on typing.
When the editor spiked his subsequent Lang column, Mitro flipped out and bitched to iPolitics supremo James Baxter, who backed his editor. Exit Mitro.
Sounds much like his term with the Globe and Mail in the late nineties, which also came to an abrupt end, hastened by his embarrassing performance at a conference on security and intelligence at the Chateau Laurier in Ottawa September 2000.
In the event, Mitrovica got up on his hind legs and ripped CSIS boss Ward Elcock a new one. Wagging his finger in Elcock’s face, Mitro ranted that Elcock should be ashamed of himself for chiming off nose stretchers.
Later, Mitro worried that his bonkers performance might inspire senior bureaucrats to complain to Globe publisher Phil “Creepy” Crawley.
Terrified he would soon be fired, Mitro called a Globe colleague and blubbered that she had to phone Crawley and “go to bat” for him.
She refused, telling Mitrovica to make his own apologies.
In the end, Batshit survived, although the following year, when his editor, Sylvia Stead, nixed one of his stories, he again exploded and a terrified Stead ran to HR.
Mitrovica got sent home with the warning that next time he’d be toast. He subsequently left the Globe and was soon pestering media chums to help him find a job.
One Globian tells Trash Magazine that after 9/11, Mitro became obsessed with Stewart Bell at the National Post and what a “phony” he was and that he, Mitrovica, was the real expert on terrorism, CSIS, blah de blah. “He’d be sputtering so much that bits of his lunch would come flying into my face,” he recalled.
More recently, Mitro went apeshit on another longtime friend after she passed a story to the Toronto Star. Mitro kvetched that he should have had first dibs on the yarn. When the reporter tried to explain, Mitro yelled, “go fuck yourself!” and hung up.
Back at Sheridan, Mitro can be found passing on to aspiring gumshoes all the wisdom and warmth that made him such a legend in the industry.
Sadly, not all his students appreciate the Giant of Journalism’s™ oeuvre:
“Deeply strange. Seems to resent journalists, has a long list of enemies. Soul-sucking experience. Avoid at all costs.”
–Ratemyprofessors review, 2015.