Kind regards.

As the famous saying goes, "All bad things must come to an end". This testiment is so often proved true. Let's look at some examples. Adolf Hitler's reign of terror, rasicm, Busted's music career, Little Britain: Series 2, Mikkel Beck's football career (http://mikkelbeck.com/), Pol Pot, Sven-Goran Eriksson's role as England manager, Irene from Home and Away's alcoholism, XFL, the episode of 'Sam's Game' (you know, the sitcom starring Davina McCall) that I watched, every conversation that I have with John Baker, bottles of Reef, Euro 2000, any Good Charlotte album (I imagine), any Mark Henry match,Charlie Sheen's marriage to Denise Richards, the Whetus gig that i went to, Bridget Jones's Diary, John Cena promos, the dinner my mum cooked the other day, every Oxford/Cambridge Boat Race, my trip to Pittsburgh, ITV's 'The Premiership', the illeagalisation of buggery, Whitney Houston's 'I Will Always Love You' being at number 1 in the charts, tunnels with no lights, the hype over the Darkness, The Grapes of Wrath, this year's 6 Nations, issues of the NME, queues, and more. The point I'm making is that this blog, 'The Midnight Devil's U.S. Adventure' has mercifully reached it's conclusion. Finally.

So my trip has taken me here...


To my homestead. The Marshall residence. The Devil's Nest, as I may start inexplicably calling it. Back to the finer things in life like minty shampoo, cat litter, and playing against Hilly at online Minesweeper. Oh yea, also my mum has put me on her car insurance (comprehensively covered, car will be kept on the driveway, roughly 10000 miles a year, social, domestic and pleasure usage, two named drivers, £100 x/s, breakdown cover? 'No thanks', bugger, my sales percentage is gonna be so low this month, etc.) and the implications are that I could turn up on your doorstep at any second for a surprise visit. Bakes, don't get your hopes up.

So it seems apt to leave you with some final thoughts about my trip. It's gonna be like Jerry Springer, but better because there will be no fat ugly rednecks fighting. Hang on. that's not better at all. But alas, don't let me dictate to you exactly how you should feel about the whole dammed sordid blog. I'm not gonna presume myself to be arrogant enough to patronise you by telling you exactly how good/awful it was. However, these people are:

Akua Boamah (don't blame her, she's Zambian) - " been keeping up to date with the blog, some bits of which i have found extremely funny, others not"

Ana Garcia (don't blame her, she claims she's a little bit Spanish) - "I've found your stories suprisingly very delightful and somewhat entertaining"

Jon 'J20' Picken - "your posts remind me of my own private parts as they are stupidly long, dark in places and best enjoyed with a handful of nuts"

Nicole M.F. Sullivan - "This is some good shit...You are hilarious in a wickedly intelligent way"

Jessie Elliot-Brunning - "Freaking awesome (aka you)"

Alex 'AlexForce' Dimond - "Be better at doing America"

Simon Hill - "I only have to close my eyes and think of you to gain visual satisfaction"

Colin Shepherd - "Try and get out a bit"

James Hankins - "Yawn"

Anonymous - "cheap arse European kid with a bad attitude, bad teeth and bad sense of style"

Another Anonymous - "Your misfortune makes me so happy"

Another Simon Hill - "Fuck you divvy"

That pesky Anonymous guy again - "I remember when this blog was entertaining"

That pesky Simon Hill guy again - "Marsh, i'm so jealous of you"

My dad - "this is a most entertaining diatribe"

Dominic Hudson - "From what I can tell you have gone to the movie set where Independance Day was shot, met some black guy that used to be the bin man in Corro and have had some kind of statue made out of you"

David Baker - "Outstanding"

John 'Muscles' Baker - "Reading this is murder"

Rebecca Sherren Robinson - "I should know all this from your travel blog...but er, ...well i did read all the beginning ones"

Dooby Dooby Splat - "Maybe you'll take a trip to the morgue next time, it might be slightly more interesting"

I think the last comment says it all really. So all I need to say is...

Kind regards.

Adam 'the Midnight Devil' Marshall

"...The Subway she is a Porno; the Pavements they are a Mess..."

Interpol; Album 1 (Turn on the Bright Lights), Track 3 (NYC)

Any excuse to get in a dodgy Interpol lyric is an excuse that I like to take full advantage of. This opinion of New York City belongs to a Mr. Paul Banks of the aforementioned band. To a certain extent he speaks the truth with these words. The subway is very much like a porno; if you like the kind of porn where homeless men mumble incoherently, people with briefcases frown and sigh regularly, and there are trains. For some reason, I get the feeling that this would still be right up Jon Picken's street.

I went up the Empire State Building yesterday. It was one of those curious attractions where you have to pay too much money, then wait in line for literally about 83 minutes. After which you get to go up a lid (interpret that using your Fiddy Cent dictionary) and then look out from the top of the building for about 11 minutes which is just enough time to persuade a foreign couple to take a photo of you (as displayed below). Following this momentary pleasure, the next step is to wait in line for about another 24 minutes before returning to ground level. All very fun I'm sure.


Also, I wouldn't recommend my papa to go to the summit there. He's so hairy, the authorities may think that King Kong has returned. On the plus side, reasonably attractive and Oscar nominated actress, Naomi Watts, would be in love with him, so there is a silver lining to every deadly deadly cloud.

Money money money money.........Money. A little rendition of the O.J.s there for you to aptly announce that I went to the New York Stock Exchange on Wall Street (the road, not the film) as well. It reminded of those classic GCSE days learning about the roaring twenties, prohibition, buying on the margin, and subsequently how the U.S. economy and thusly much of the nation was left decrepit by the greed of two many big city fat cats. Yea...what a shame. It also reminded me of the delightful Mrs Liddle (No fun aloud!) and her ever smiling countenance. But enough of that, look at this:


Yes mum, that is a cigar in my mouth, and a fat/phat cigar at that. Your baby boy is all grown up and everything. Above is a picture of a man who is blatantly very inexperienced and uncomfortable at smoking cigars. It also left me stinking for the rest of the day, and I don't just mean with the stench of my regular foul odour. This was even more intense and suffocating. Oh well, at least it made me look hella cool. Am I right ladies? Yes, yes I am.

I caught a Broadway show yester evening. I treated myself to a viewing of Elton John's new big thing. I refer of course to his show 'Lestat' about vampires and the like. If I was asked which my favourite part was, I would say that I liked all of it.

And in other news I return to my native England on the morrow.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

Paradise Hostel

Hello again. Tis I, Adam 'the Midnight Devil' Marshall, with further news and views from the great city of New York...City. I'm sure that you are all very eager to see what new excitement I've been up to. And by 'all' of course I refer to my parents and Simon Hill. And I don't think my parents even bother any more. They have better things to do, like watch Emmerdale and complete Sudoku puzzles. And when you consider that my dad hates Emmerdale and mother dearest struggles to fathom the complexities of the secrets of Sudoku, you really get an idea of how mundane this blog is. Just you and me then Hill. It's just like this January all over again. If you're lucky I'll tell you the story of when Mr Owen told us in year 7 that by the time we finish school we'll all be carrying around computers in wheel barrows again. Crazy Welsh bastard.

So...New York continues to be kind to me. And one resident of that fair metropolis has been especially kind. He goes by several alternative identities; the Crunch 'n' Munch Guy, Dancin' Dave K, and Dave Kerpen are but a few. But fans of the hit Channel 5 reality T.V. show 'Paradise Hotel' will fondly remember him simply as Dave. And for those of you who don't remember him, allow me to jog your memory in the usual prescribed way...

The undoubted star of the show, Dave provided hours of quality entertainment as the thoroughly likeable, but oft fall guy on 'Paradise Hotel'. As viewers of the program we enjoyed him battle things out against the manly and slightly unstable (so it seemed) Toni, as well as being led on and then betrayed like Jesus himself by Charla, who, in my wayward analogy, I guess must be Judas. Wayward of course because Judas wasn't a waitress from Minnesota and Jesus didn't formerly sell a popcorn product at Boston Red Sox's Fenway Park. But the principle is basically the same.

Anyway, Dave told me all about his life pre and post Paradise. As well as about the plans for his upcoming marriage in July at a baseball park in front of 10,000. And it's all for free. Good luck sir. Good luck.

The description of such an encounter will leave a lot of you with only one complaint. The canny eyed of you will claim that I have therefore spelt the title of the post incorrectly. Not so my dear fellow(s). Because I have very deviously used the title space to get two points across. One, that I will be meeting a star from 'Paradise Hotel'. The other? To cement the idea that hostel that I am currently aboding within is something of a treasure. The staff literally know every guest's name They give me unlimited tea and toast on demand And best of all, one guy who works there is actually called Vance. How cool is that. Also, the owner lady is extremely pleasant. Plus she's German. How very singular, I'm sure.

I went to my very first baseball game on Saturday. Within moments of me entering the stadium I was told that due to the torrential rainfall outside, the game had been cancelled. But you can halt your cruel and savage laughter right there mister, because due to the remarkable amount of matches that baseball teams try to fit into one season, there was another game the very next day. And the ticket was only $2. And the seats were sweet. And the New York Mets (the home team, and beloved force of the Kerpenator as can be seen above) won. And I got to eat a hotdog, which, from the queer feeling in one's belly area the next day, was probably left over from Saturday's unused batch. D'oh. Oh yeah, baseball if nobody knows what that is:

Wife to Husband - "When you said we were looking at diamonds today, I wasn't expecting this"

Continuing the pursuit of seeing where some movies are filmed sometimes (See Silence of the Lambs, Shawshank Redemption, Home Alone 2:Lost in New York in previous posts if you can bear it), I took shelter from the snow the other day in the New York Public Library. It was just like box-office flop 'The Day After Tomorrow', except better because Jake Gyllenhaal wasn't camping things up, and Dennis Quaid wasn't there, and I didn't die a horrible painful death. Thumbs up all round I say.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

"...I love New York City, Oh yeah New York City..."

Andrew W.K.; Album 1 (I Get Wet), Track 6 (I Love NYC)

The question here is whether I'm simply quoting lyrics of a genius from yet another great song from his illustrious back catalogue, or if I actually do indeed feel such deep emotion for the aforementioned city. As always, we can look to t-shirts for the answer...


So it's true. The t-shirt has spoken. Apparantly I do indeed love New York City as if it were my own mother, father , two brothers and Heidi Klum all rolled in to one flagrant, bustling urban area. Do you wanna know what else I love:

That's correct; tall buildings. New York has loads of them, like more than twelve. New York City as an entity also feels the need to celebrate concepts and notions of optimism and hope (Idiots). For example...

I went to see a basketball game last evening at the world famous Madison Square Garden (which accrued most of its said fame when Jeff Hardy did a Swanton Bomb from the balcony on to Buh Buh Ray Dudley and two tables at Royal Rumble 2000). It was great fun as should be expected. Tied at 96 - 96, the Knicks and the Indiana Pacers went in to the last 5 seconds, and Jamal Crawford came up big with a jumper for the two and the win. Ball game Knicks! Top stuff.

The Knicks weren't as good as I've seen them before however. I think they were much better when they only had two players, Patrick Ewing and John Starks (who was there also and I got to see him and everything. I almost fainted), and sometimes when one player was doing really well the ball would set on fire and and burn the net and stuff. I'm doing 'NBA Jam' humour now, just sit back and enjoy it. I said enjoy it, dammit.

Also, sub-par rapper Fat Joe was in the crowd. Joy.


Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

Start spreading the news...

So I made my way oot of Canada eh (spot on imitation). And ended up here in New York City. It's almost too much excitement for one delightful man to take. I was so excited in fact that I required a sit down when I got here. "And where did you sit, Adam? I beg you...alas, no, I beseech you to tell me", I hear you cry. I sat here:


Well, I don't think I need explain exactly where this is, eh folks? I said 'eh folks?'. It is the instantly recognisable Tom's Restaurant which everybody reading this will know from popular U.S. comedy 'Seinfeld'. Ok, so none of you have ever seen Seinfeld. Not even James Hankins who creams himself at the very mention of Larry David's name. Oh, there he goes again.

The laughs didn't stop there. Next on the agenda was to go and see where John Lennon had his life prematurely taken at the hands of a gun and bullet. All very sad and all that, although I did see Paul McCartney having a bit of a giggle across the street. It's been over 25 years now Paul, just try forgetting it. Just across the way is a memorial garden as well. It's called Strawberry Fields. I wonder how they came up with that one.

Genuinely though, my first day in New York City was one where comedy was the common theme (today is not following that trend, if this blog entry is anything to go by). I took a trip to see the Plaza Hotel where Kevin, played by amusingly ruined human being Macaulay Culkin, stays in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York ("...and one of those little refrigerators you have to open with a key. Credit card? You got it"). For the amusement of those people familiar with the chief resident, or Derby yokels who can enjoy the name for other reasons, I also took a trip to...


I saw Donald Trump in the lobby and made him shine my shoes. Then I shaved off all of his silly hair and made him bark like a dog (in a similar way that Saskia did to Derek in Big Brother 6). Needless to say, nothing said in this paragragh is the truth.

As if the level of humour hadn't already reached its zenith, its pinacle if you prefer, I went to see a live recording of...

Again, many of you probably haven't seen this, but perhaps you've heard of mock-news program 'The Daily Show with Jon Stewart'. Well the Colbert Report is a spin off from that. And yes, that is my fairy soft hand on the left. Silky.

To make my time in New York even more authentic, I have chosen to lather myself in predominently native New York music. The trend that seems to recur is that of massive bigging up of the bands' home city. Check it: Interpol with the song 'NYC', Yeah Yeah Yeahs with 'Yeah! New York', the Strokes pitch in with 'New York City Cops', and the divine Andrew WK (don't ever for one moment think that I neglected that guy) scores big with 'I Love NYC'. And for those of you not familiar with Mr WK, see this please:

Don't ever forget him. Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

April Falls Day

I went to Niagara Falls. I spent a day there. It was in April. Puntastic. Literally.

The small city of Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada has everything.

Waterfalls


They named a road after a Futurama character, or, if you prefer, Alex 'Alex "AlexForce" Force' Dimond

Also, these guys turned up

Oh yea, and did I mention the waterfalls

In truth, Niagara Falls is pretty nasty I reckon. Horribly commercialised with bad 'Hollywood Wax Work' museums and the like. Even the falls themselves aren't massively impressive. I'm sure that Stuart Costen would concur that when you've seen one waterfall you've seen them all.

Oh well, on to the Big Apple next, and I am hugely pumped for it. Should be good. Should be good.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

BREAKING NEWS: Adam Marshall is Dead!

Erm...April Fool's Day. Ha ha. It's funny, right? Mum, please stop crying. Mum, please stop, don't worry, I'm not really dead. It was just an April Fool's Day ruse. Mum, mum. Oh dear. Baker, please stop laughing.

So yea, it's the 1st of April. The day where awful comedic wannabes amuse themselves, but unfortuneately not others, with 'hillarious' pranks. Also, it's the day where we say best wishes and kind regards to the biggest April Fool of them all, my bother Ben. The reason; it's his birthday today. Well done Ben.

Quick mundane details about me. I went to my first ice hockey game the other day. It was great. There were goals and fights and everything. It was just like Gaelic football, except my mate Quinny wasn't playing. The best thing about it though was the fact that the stadium that the Nashville Predators play in is called the Gaylord Entertainment Centre. It makes me laugh every time because I'm a horrible little man.

Also making me laugh was when we went into a shop and my sister-in-law said to my brother 'We need to get you some pants' at a highly audible level. I was in stitches. Pants, brilliant.

Off to Niagra Falls today - should be good - pretty area - wet - very (a quick Mr. Jingle from Dickens' 'The Pickwick Papers' impression for you there. Trust me, it's spot on).

Done.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

My name's Adam Marshall; People call me Adam Marshall

The last few days have been busy busy busy. Much traveling was the order of the days with one sole mission: to come back and bore you with the details.

I went to Kentucky with bro and sis-in-law. We went to the 'longest cave in the United States' apparently. Gosh. Whilst we trekked round it some, I was trying to think of a comeback to my brother, Ross, who chose to accept my invitation to poke fun at my 'grand nez' a couple of posts ago. "What could I possibly write", I thought as we shuffled our way through a particularly narrow part of the cave, "to inflict as much misery on him as he did on me". The answer appeared to me from the darkness:


South Carolina, South Carolina, South Carolina gal prowl off, gal yuh fi jump and prance. Those lyrics (thanks to lyricsdepot.com), if you wish them to be so, can be interpreted with accompaniment of the music by Shaggy for his song 'Oh Carolina'. One thing I noticed about this state is that they are big fans of shrimp (or prawns, as they are more sensibly called) down there and thusly many seafood restaurants can be found. The locals, being the comedy geniui that they are, choose 'amusing' and 'whimsical' names for these eateries. Examples that may or may not exist are 'Big Shrimping', 'Bring out the Shrimp', and 'Shrimping ain't easy'.

I had a shag in Charleston.


This picture will I'm sure clear up any confusion and doubt caused by the unlikely claim made above it.

In Savannah, Georgia I went to a place called Chippewa Square. This was the locale for the scenes in Oscar winning film Forrest Gump where Hanks is seated on a bench talking to the numerous strangers who are unfortunate enough to sit next to him. That particular bench is no longer there unfortunately, but the square is, so I thought it wise to take the opportunity to recreate the scene:


That's not a box of chocolates on my lap by the way. It's my hat. Makes you ponder though eh? What if? "My momma used to say life is like a hat; you wear it on your head, and sometimes they have a bobble, and Adam Marshall's is black". Maybe it doesn't work quite as well, but it's certainly something for Robert Zemeckis to consider if he ever makes Forrest Gump 2.

Also in Georgia I went to Atlanta (which isn't the lost city under the ocean, idiot) which was too busy creaming off over Coca-Cola, Ted Turner, and the fact that they held the Olympics 10 years ago to notice me.

Mission accomplished.

(By the way, for those of you interested, I added some extra comments and photos to my last post. Enjoy.)

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

This and that; Bits and bobs; Odds and sods. Ha! I said 'Sod(s)'

Despite recent criticism, and with the benefit of Simon Hill's indefatigable (I'm reading Dickens at the moment, it's rubbing off) support and backing, I reenter the blogging stage with what has the potential to be my very most dull post of the trip thus far. Mercifully, I shall keep things short and bullet pointed, just like Alex Di(a)mond. I don't know what that means, but I like it.

(Please note: this is gonna be super mundane. In fact, it may be an idea for people to avoid it like they would avoid John Baker. Don't expect for the emotions deep in your bosoms to be aroused. The warning has been made clear. Please take heed.)

Things that I have meant to say in previous posts but for some reason forgot/neglected to do so:

- When in one of the, shall we say, dodgier parts of New Orleans a car pulled up a long side me with four black youths of seemingly unscrupulous character seated in it. They wound down their windows and beseeched me to "Give us all your money". Not being acquainted with such a situation I simply laughed and walked onwards. It seemed to work, and thusly I recommend that if you are ever caught up in the same scenario, just do the same.
- Have you ever heard of 'the Man Show'? Have you ever heard of 'the Jimmy Kimmel Show'? The host of both of these programs is a man by the name of Jimmy Kimmel. Whilst in New York I was predictably strolling around the Kodak Theatre and I spotted the aforementioned Kimmel. Making sure it was him I asked, "Aren't you that Jimmy guy off the telly". He nodded his assent and we chatted for a short while. This 'short while' included sufficient time to scalp this photograph:

The guy on the right is saying, "Adam Marshall and his infernal blog can go to heck."
The guy on the left is saying, "What's a Jimmy Kimmel?"

- I was fortunate enough to stagger into a bar in Philadelphia that was selling bottles of Miller Lite for just 50 cents. I had many. It was like the old fashioned Miller Times that I have become accustomed to, except not as good because my good friend Scott John Miller was notable in his absence.
- This was the first of two occurrences where I have laid my thoughts with Mr. S. J. Miller. The second occurred during my viewing of Brokeback Mountain. I realised that MillerTime strikes a spitting image of Oscar nominated actor Jake Gyllenhaal. Especially, I should predictably add, when he is being unceremoniously rogered by Heath Ledger.
- Back here in Nashville I made a new 'bud'. The resident dog, Butler, is my new man's best friend. To overuse a phrase, he strikes a spitting image to Colin. Not my Uncle Colin, who has popped up on many occasions during this blog to offer an amusing word or two in the comments, but Colin the dog from the sitcom Spaced. See hither said resemblance:

"His breath smells like dog food", he moaned.

"What do you expect, it's all I eat", Adam replied.

- I don't like Scientologists, and after the heated debate I had with one of them in one of their museums last month, I doubt they like me too much either. I think that Scientologists are idiots. Also I hate them.
- Happy Birthday to my brother Ross on February 26th. Happy Mother's Day for last Sunday, that's to my mum. Well done to Vicky for becoming a 21 year old.
- I have been rethinking my entrance music. I realise that in Herb Alpert's 'Spanish Flea' I have pretty much achieved perfection but hear me out. I'm thinking that 'Hundred Mile High City' by Ocean Colour Scene would do a job. However, what I really want to do is take on an 80s gimmick just so I can use 'Money for Nothing' by Dire Straits. Imagine the crowd popping when that babe starts up. Plus Mark Knopfler is a University of the West of England alumni, so finally I'd be giving something back to the institution that served me so well.

- I went into a shop the other day with the full intention of buying two pairs of jeans with a waist measuring in at 34 inches. I exited the shop with two pairs of jeans, each displaying a label claiming that the size of the waist of said jeans was in 32. Ha! I didn't get fat after all. Boo sucks to all those who doubted me. And mum, you can't use the 'Well the sizes are usually bigger in the States' excuse, because an inch is an inch is an inch where ever you go. Me = winner.

- I finally got around to having a shave. Turns out that I had a 'soul patch', something that I had never adorned before. I am indeed now a man. If you don't know what a soul patch is don't worry, it is the small patch of hair that grows just under your bottom lip. The only reason I know this is because Neighbours once had an episode where the main subject was Stuart's soul patch. The episode title was something like 'Bless My Soul...Patch'.

- J20 Jonny Down now has a blog. It's a fascinating read and can be found here: http://www.blogger.com/profile/19152351.

- Also, some wag started this website: http://www.ihateadammarshall.com/. However, it appears not to be functioning at this time. Shame that.

Sorry. Serious.

Kind regards I guess.

Adam Marshall

That's the Chicago way

I went here the other day...


No, not to Antarctica, and not to see the Oscar winning feature length documentary 'March of the Penguins'. This is on the inside part of Chicago's Field Museum of Natural History.

There was a mongoose there as well:


At this point, some people may be congratulating their own memory for linking this photo to one of my posts the other day when I was back in Hawaii. At this point as well however, some people may be congratulating themselves for directing their mouse to the top right hand corner of their internet browser and clicking on the 'X'. Either way, good job.

Also, this guy turned up.


Anyway, it turns out that the museum was pretty dull, almost as dull as this blog in fact. I could have looked at taxidermed up animals for free in Bristol if I had wanted to, and I didn't want to, so you figure it out. Actually, it turned out that Chicago as a whole was a touch on the bland side. It looked like a good place to live, but not so good to visit as a tourist. Also there was a part of town called North Halstead which was the most overtly gay area I've seen since Castro in San Francisco, 24 Hamilton Road in Bristol, and the mouths of Simon Hill and J20 Jonny Down in Derby.

I've left Chicago now which makes the title of this post a little redundant. I just really wanted to use the quote. If anybody can tell me from which film it is from, and which actor said it (during an Oscar winning turn) then I would love to hear from you. And by the way it isn't 'Chicago', and it isn't 'That's The Way' which isn't even a film, so I bet you feel pretty stupid don't you. I went to Memphis briefly to see where the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jnr. was assassinated. Pretty nasty really. Now I'm back in Nashville with my bro, and if anybody remembers how bad my blog got when I was here last time, I'd advise those people to steer clear of this thing for a few days.

By the way, about the picture of the pelican; I haven't read any nose jokes on this blog from anybody yet. I'm giving everybody ample chance to get them out of their system now. I'll give you one to help start you off: 'Hey Marsh, that picture of the duck with the big beak, is that like, a picture of you looking in to a mirror, or something. (Guffaw)'.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

Cold blooded killer(s)

Spaced; Series 1, Episode 5 (If somebody was to correct me and said that it was actually episode 4, I wouldn't be greatly surprised. However, I'm sure it comes after Daisy gets Colin and they are both looking at him and Tim pulls a silly sarcastically pleased face and then he tells the story about the dishwasher breaking down ("But we haven't got a dishwasher" - "You will my friend, you will") and calls the dog a "ticking time bomb of death". Also, it wouldn't surprise me if the story wasn't about a dishwasher but actually about a washing machine or some other kitchen appliance).

You know earlier in this blog thing when I chatted about particularly memorable 24 hour periods and everybody told me how boring I was...

...Let me tell you about a 24 hour period that was particularly memorable starting at roughly noon on Monday the 22nd of March.

I decided to go on a road trip. It sounds like a spontaneous decision. It thoroughly wasn't, I had planned to do it since before my trip even began. In case anybody is reading this who doesn't know me, I lack spontaneity. I don't have a spontaneous bone in my body. My name should be Adam 'Not Very Spontaneous At All Really' Marshall. Even doing stuff like this: HGufrhu343G%32deE98 makes me a little nervous and I actually spent several hours working out exactly which combination of letters I should press.

So I drove up to WISCONSIN (classic 'That 70's Show') to a small town called Plainfield. The reason for such a destination was that during the 1950s a man named Ed Gein resided in the town and chose to kill a number of its residents. Due to the fact that he skinned his victims, murdered on account of an obsession with his deceased mother, and lived in a remote and dilapadated farmhouse; he later became the influence for films (or books if you want to get pedantic, and knowing my dad, he probably will) such as 'Silence of the Lambs', 'Psycho', and 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre'. If anybody shares my morbid curiosity more information can be found hither: http://www.crimelibrary.com/gein/geinmain.htm.

Driving in to the town gave me chills, and not the good kind like John Travolta gets in Greace that multiply and are caused by seeing Olivia Newton John looking mighty fine. No, these were the kind of chills caused by knowing that one man felt it neccessary to homocide up his neighbours. Naughty. I drove up to his farm where all of the buildings were burnt to a cinder long ago. There were shedloads of no trespassing signs. Well let it be heard once and for all right now, nobody tells the Midnight D to go away without feeling his full merciless force (check out the bottom sticker, they're my eyes they are. Bam).

My next sight-seeing spot was in the heart of downtown Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Why? To see the site where a man named Jeff Dahmer murdered to death many of his 17 victims during the early 1990s. Again, the actual apartment block had been long ago destroyed, but the creepiness remained vivid as it meant that there was just a fenced off gap in the houses where his gaff should have been. Plus it was the kind of street where odd trainers just sit in the gutter, and random plastic bags blow a round for no reason. If anybody shares my morbid curiosity more information can be found hither: http://www.crimelibrary.com/serial_killers/notorious/dahmer/index.html. Needles (sic - I've always wanted to use that) to say though, it was all very eerie...

...Indiana was where I headed next (check that out. It's all very clever; the way that I use the last word of one paragraph which links to the first word of the following paragraph. I did it in my last post as well. Did you spot it? If not, after finishing reading this, I recommend you go back and see if you can find it. Good luck. Take care. Adam Marshall), and that's all I've got to say about that.

After getting 40 minutes of kip, I zipped right along into OHIO (classic 'The Drew Carey Show'), going through a town called Bowling Green, which was all very odd, and headed for a place called Mansfield. Mansfield is home to the Ohio State Reformatory, and a certain team of filmmakers decided to utilise the site of said reformatory as the primary setting for their movie; The Shawshank Redemption. Now I know that many many many people rave hard over this film, I am unable to do so. This isn't because I disliked it at all, but it is because the one time I watched it some girl was talking at me and doing kissing on me and stuff. Considering that girls in general don't like particpating in such an activity with me very often, it was irritating that this particular specimen chose then to do it. If anybody shares my morbid curiosity more information can be found hither: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0111161/. Oh yea, there's a photo as well.

Erm...then I drove back to Chicago, fortunately arriving just before noon and thusly avoiding a nasty fine. I had travelled just over 1250 miles and slept for a mere 42 minutes (I grabbed a couple more minutes whilst at 75mph on Highway 94).

My advice: Don't get murdered by any person, real or literary, and kind regards.

Adam Marshall

You can't drink a pint of Bovril!

Spaced; Series 2, Episode 4.

If you put a T on the end of the 'Chi' in Chi-Town; you get my exact opposite opinion of Chicago. 'Chi', by the way, is pronounced 'Shy' and 'Chi-Town' is a nickname for Chicago. Although the city is a delight and I'm having a blast here, I still wanted to add the long winded profanity above for two reasons. Firstly, as a tribute to Stone Cold Steve Austin and a promo he once cut on Bret Hart ("If you put an S on the front of Hit Man..."). Secondly, I have neglected to use that particular profanity for years and years after Robert Foster told me that it wasn't proper swearing. With the amount of respect and adulation I have for the Northern Explorer himself, I decided to stop saying it to honour the brilliance of the peanut pirate.

So like I say, I'm in Chicago. I was fortunate to arrive here on St. Patrick's day, or St. Patty's day as the yanks decide to unnecessarily abbreviate it to (same amount of syllables, idiots). They go mad for it over here. Everybody seems to think that they're Irish for the day. I suppose anything is better than being American (by the way Leslee, that's me doing a joke and no cause for you not to put me up for free in your house for a couple more days). They go so mad for it they even dye the river green. I rushed down to the relevant river to check out its splendor, and...


...yea, really green, really river. Apparently they had dyed it last Saturday, a whole 6 days before the day it is supposed to ceremorate. Genius. But all was not lost. They still partied hard in the evening. And I mean hard. Put it this way, even Andrew WK would have been proud of them. Also, I drunk more Guinness than I ever have before. Mind you, I'd only ever drunk 1 pint in my past, and that was at Birmingham Academy while watching Weezer. They didn't have any bitter on tap and I didn't want to be like the commoners and drink lager (insulting the majority of readers here. Excellent. Maybe only my mother and my cousin Scott, who plausibly still favours Southern Comfort, escape my wrath), so I plumped for the black stuff. Here's the proof, and photos never lie.


I enjoyed my Guinness drinking. Everything that they say about it is true. It does taste nice. It does fill you up. It does take ages to pour. And it does produce a very unique hue of faeces. By the way, hue is a grown up word for colour. And faeces is a grown up word for...

Hilly will be potentially entertained by this next story. I was asking one of the hostel workers what there is good to do in Chicago. They told me to go and see Linkin Park. Linkin Park, I said, here in the city. Yes, they reiterated, and they gave me directions. Imagine my disappointment...


Ok, I'm off to see where some people got killed once. I'll report back soon. I bet you're DIEING to find out how it goes. Ha ha ha ha...oh.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

When I woke up in the morning, my alarm gave out a warning...and then I met Mr. Belding

Hello there. Yesterday I flew back in to L.A. from Hawaii. Tomorrow I will be flying to Chicago. Today I met Dennis Haskins, a.k.a. Principal Richard 'the Bopper' Belding, from popular television show of the early nineties 'Saved By The Bell'.

We did lunch so to speak at a joint called Hambuger Hamlet, which is in the heart of Hollywood just opposite the Chinese Picture House and the Kodak Theatre (where the Oscars are held by the way, in case I hadn't mentioned before), which specialises in...well, hambugers, obviously. Dennis had come directly from an audition for a new film about bowling which is set to star that brazen hussy Tara Reid. The audition had gone swimmingly, he had just overcome a bout of illness, and he had returned back home after a trip to Florida where he had been doing a couple of Q & As to college students. All was good in the life of Haskins, or as he has become known in some circles, The Belding-ater (the circles of which I speak are me, talking to myself and making up silly nicknames for people who were good enough to take time out to chat with me. Idiot).

For all the haters, the non-believers, the doubters, the players and pimps, the tinkers, tailors, soldiers, sailors, rich men, poor men, beggar men, theives, and anybody other than those I've already mentioned here lies the proof and indeed verification of such an encounter.

And that wasn't the only photo that Dennis had to pose for during our luncheon. A couple of young scallywags approached us with comments such as, "Hey Belding, I love you dude", and "Look, it's the Belding-ater" (the latter didn't actually happen, I'm simply trying to make the nickname catch on by lying about its popularity. Idiot) and produced a disposable camera to capture the moment. Chances are however, they may be disappointed; my photography skills are at best piss-poor, oh well

He chatted at length about his pre-acting days when he was a music concert promoter (his client list included Tom Jones, the famous ageing lethario as opposed to our old music teacher), his first big acting break (with long hair, stubble and a moustache he made the perfect bad guy for the first ever episode of 'Starsky and Hutch'), his eleven years in Saved By The Bell (he and Mark-Paul Gosselaar (Zach Morris) have a great mutual respect for one another's work), and his opinions on Dustin 'Screech Powers' Diamond's new career as a stand-up comedian ("No comment" were his exact words). He also told me about all of the work he does for good causes, including charity golf tournaments and other such appearances.

Most of all he was very clear about his love for acting. Yes, he's happy to do the college speaches and reality T.V. shows (watch this space) but acting is his number one joy. It was an absolute privilige to spend the time in his company, and I need to pay a whole heap of gratitude to him for being so accomodating and patient with my constant pestering or 'perserverence' as he diplomatically and mercifully put it.

In other news, my project is going so well that Hollywood finally chose to honour me in the appropriate way:


It doesn't seem much, but look closer:



Yep, my own Hollywood Star of Fame. Ok, ok, I'll hold my hands up. They didn't actually give it to me. It's actually just a sticker (courtesy of Simon 'Hilly' Hill). In actual fact Alan Young told me that now days you have to pay between $15,000 and $20,000 for one of those bad boys. So when you see the likes of Vin Diesel and Steven Seagal down there, just remember they didn't so much earn the accolade, as opposed to more buying it with lots and lots of money that they earned for acting badly. Just for the record, when Alan Young got his, they were earned on credit, not for cash. Although mine is just a sticker, at least it is something for Hollywood to remember me by for ever; or at least until tonight when they come and wash it away and probably send the F.B.I. after me and shoot me dead.

Oh yea, one other thing...Dennis 'Belding' Haskins is also a big karaoke fan. Awesome.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

Don't believe a word this guy says about sharks; he lies. But gee, give the guy a chance when he speaks about Mongeese; he talks a whole lot of sense

What have I been up to over the last couple of days or so? Hey, what haven't I been up to more like it. Haha. Brilliant.

Back to the original question that I posed, what have I been up to over the last couple of days or so? Hey, what haven...ok, I'll stop that now. Well, I went to Pearl Harbour yesterday, the place not the film. Bloody Josh Hartnett. So it was pretty nasty and stuff. You get to stand above the U.S.S. Arizona which was sunk during the attack and the 1000+ guys on the boat at the time are still down there. Thoroughly unpleasant.

Today I found yet another thing that I'm rubbish at. Snorkeling. I'll put it on the list with golf, snooker, drawing, singing, playing the guitar, getting girls to play kissy-kiss with me, speaking German, knowing about cars, astrology, mind control, running for Government, and darts. Mind you, I did improve as I persevered. Eventually I was swimming amongst the coral (DON'T TOUCH!!!) and the fishes (DON'T EAT!!!). Also there was a shark there. And then 5 sharks attacked me. And then I killed 8 sharks. And then a shark was dying from natural causes so I saved its life. Then I killed the shark because it attacked me. Then I ate a shark. Here's a picture of me in full snorkel get up. My deepest apologies for subjecting you to it. But look at my right hand, I know all the lingo and everything. A shame the woman who took it was a horrible, bitter old trout-ette. Check it out, I do captions now...

Is that a snorkel in your mouth, or is somebody just pleased to see you?

I saw three mongooses.

This sign amused me some. The concept is one that I like a lot. It's like John Parrot's wet dream come true. I also enjoy the succinctness of the Japanese(?) translation, as if it is the most natural combination of activities. It makes you wonder whether they have a translation for 'cauliflower and brain surgery' or 'spines and brillo pads', doesn't it? Doesn't it?


Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

Does anybody know the Hawaiian for 'Hello'?

Apparently the percentage of native Hawaiians on Ohau is 8%. The majority of the remainder of the population is made up of oriental types. Of that, about half are of the female variety. Many of these females are of an extremely attractive nature. A large chunk of these choose to wear skimpy swimsuits whilst navigating the island. Unlike Chris Gurney, I'm no wannabe mathematic genius, and therefore I have not been able to produce an exact proportion, but to put it in simple terms, there are a whole bunch of tasty oriental ladies knocking about Hawaii whilst wearing next to nothing. It's a dream. In fact it's AlexForce's dream. Except, because none of them speak English, he doesn't have the chance to mess things up by saying stuff like, "Hi, my D.J. name is Awesome Wells", or, "Did I mention I play the harmonica?".

I, on the other hand, still have ample opportunity to mess things up. My beach look for example, is enough to send any lady scarpering for safety. It can be seen hither...


Despite the look however, it still seems that I am still something of a heartbreaker. I got chatting to a couple of birds yesterday and said that I'll probably see them around in the evening. Later I fell asleep in my bedroom. The next thing I knew, this random fella bursts in, poking me in the leg, asking, "Are you Adam?". "Yes", I replied predictably. "There are two girls asking after you outside", he responded. I thought about what he had said, and concluded that what he was saying didn't seem like the kind of thing that would apply to me. I thusly rolled over and went back to sleep. To cut a long story a little shorter, I saw them the next day and were annoyed that I didn't come out to see them. The end.

Also, for the more observant of those amongst you, one may observe from the photo above my new hat. This purchase was the direct consequence of the losing of my previous hat. Finally, for the most observant of those amongst you, one may observe my only sunburned area as being my eyes. It's great. I look like Jonathan Woodgate, but without the drugs, and the broken leg, and the own goal and red card on Real Madrid debut, and the awful and irritating Kate Lawler hanging around like a bad smell.

Kind regards.

Hlalum Marshall

Aloha

Yea, that's pretty much what I just said, except I didn't have to rely upon a blue sign to get my point across. However, one could argue that by submitting that particular photo, relying on the blue sign to get my point across is exactly what I'm doing. On the flip side to that though; it could be said that by drawing attention to, and then questioning the validity of the blue sign's presence, I am affectively rebutting any presumption that I am relying on it's impact. We appear to have a conundrum. If only Richard Whitely was here. Or alive.

The best bit about today is when I went to Hawaii. The worst bit about today is when it started raining upon my arrival. Also, there appear to bit lots of insects milling about. I'm fearing that I may wake tomorrow with bites and bites and bites and bites and bites and bites and bites, all over my body.

I'm having real problems communicating both my moniker and my country of origin at the moment, and considering that all I'm ever asked is, "Who are you and where are you from", it's becoming a problem. When ever I'm asked my name, I always seem to say "Hlalum". And when asked where I'm from I can barely respond "Linglun". It's very disconcerting, as well as the root of much confusion from the other party as they've never met a Linglishman before.

Mahalo and kind regards.

Adam Marshall

"I got astigmatism..."

This man's name is Eddie Deezen.

If you're wondering where you've seen him before then let me tell you where it may have been. If you're not wondering where you've seen him before, or have never yet seen him, then please, still allow me to tell you. He most famously played the legendary character of Eugene Felnic in the film Grease, and then again in Grease 2.

And what a thoroughly bloody nice bloke he is. He told me about the good old days filming Grease. He enthused about his love for the Beatles, Elvis and the Rolling Stones (but especially the Beatles, about whom he's read hundreds of books and runs a quiz which can be found at www.eddiedeezen.com). He was delighted to indulge the fact that both Tom Hanks and Paul Mccartney have done Eddie Deezen impressions in the past, something that they have in common with my older brother Ross.

And then at the end of it all, he forced me to buy him brunch. I'm joking of course. It was a massive privilege to offer and then indeed buy Eddie his meal, something that I now have in common with Steven Spielberg. The time I spent with Eddie was just great. Also I forgot to ask if he had any nicknames. I have since come up with a couple. They are: 'Steady' Eddie Deezen, and Eddie 'the Reason' Deezen. I like the latter. It brings a sense of ambiguity with it. If you read this Eddie, tell me what you think.

This man's name is not Eddie Deezen.


It is actually Juan J. Dominguez. He advertises with his flyers all over the public buses. Looking like a cross between Ben Savage from 'Boy Meets World' (with a moustache) and Dustin Diamond who played Screech in 'Saved by the Bell' (with a moustache) he is certainly the guy I would trust to complete a successful negligence claim for me.

This man's name is also not Eddie Deezen.


It is Sir Patrick Moore. I was on a bus the other day, and I heard that he died. Upon attempting to ensure the truth in this matter however, I found no confirmation on tinternet. Odd. I would very much appreciate it if somebody could tell me the living status of that astronoming, xylophone playing, monocle wearing gamesmaster. Is he no longer with us? Is it game over at last? If the photo is anything to go by, I guess not.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

In a world where the Midnight Devil is traveling around the U.S.A.; one man agreed to meet up with him...

...and that one man was a fella by the name of Don LaFontaine. You may not recognise the name, but you would almost certainly recognise the voice. He's the bloke responsible for many, many voiceovers on film and television trailers. With catchphrases such as "One man's struggle...", "In a world where...", and "This summer...", he has written, produced and recorded such voiceovers for just over 40 years.

And what a great guy. He took time out of his busy schedule to come and meet with me specially. We ate some lunch and chatted. He answered all of my questions fully giving me an insight into how his business works, how he got started (by accident, apparantly), and how he feels about the cheeky scamps who now imitate him for their own professional gain. Yes, he really is a kind, caring, loving, gentle man. And those compliments are in no way linked to the fact that he said he would hunt me down and break my face if I wrote anything bad about him.

Genuinely though, he was a friendly, funny guy. Plus he likes the English and bought me lunch. Compliments and free food are possibly the two best ways to get me on your side. Also money works just as well. And torture.

Here's a photo...

...it's not of Don LaFontaine however, no this is a gent lifting some serious weights on Muscle Beach. He was like John Baker, but weaker and with less clothing.

Another guy who was strutting his stuff down on Venice Beach was 'Brad the Sand Guy'. Actually, when you consider that there was a sand sculpturer, the weather was windy, there were volleyball nets on the beach, and there were plenty of old folks milling about, it was very much like the old-school family holidays that we used to take in Weymouth. This time though, there was no where to buy football comic books, and no older brothers putting sand in my food. No, this time I had to do that myself.


The familiarities to the English beaches were found when I was in Miami as well. When I was out there I was drawn in to thinking that the ocean I was swimming in (which was the Atlantic for anybody struggling with simple geography) was the very same passage of water that I used to frequent back in the day in England. It reminded me of being back in Hastings, Kent as a nipper and taking a drenching, all because I had the gall to challenge the the tide by getting really close to the sea and then attempting to run away from the waves as they came in. Don't mess with Mother Nature people. She's a right bitch. While in the sea in Miami I found a plaster which I reckon was mine that fell off in the water back then. I'm sure it was mine because I licked it and the scab on it tasted like my blood. Who needs D.N.A. tests.

My apologies, I've managed to go from meeting the great Don LaFontaine, to licking scabs. How do these things happen?

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

"I looked like the kind of guy who could talk to horses"

I met this guy today...

And he was a very pleasant, down to earth kind of guy. He has two cats and is fascinated by the U.S. Civil War. He lives in a part of Los Angeles called Studio City.


Alan Young was a bit of a STAR back in the day. Get it. Star. Brilliant. After moving to Canada from Scotland at a very young age, he began his career doing comedy work on the radio. He was popular because he could do a funny English accent. After that success he became a screen actor and even had his own comedy show (aptly named 'The Alan Young Show') for which he won an Emmy award.

He went on to play the main part in a program called Mr Ed, where his co-star was a talking horse. Obviously. In the late seventies he became fond of doing voice work, and with his British roots he got a lot of work by mimicking his father's Scottish accent; most famously perhaps as the Disney character of Scrooge McDuck. He went on to make cameos in Hang Time and U.S.A. High, as well as scoring a part in Beverly Hills Cop 3.

We chatted for a long time about his career. He told me stories and anecdotes about John Wayne, Stan Laurel, and Sir Lawrence Olivier. We talked about when somebody tried to sue him for $1 million. He told me about his love for 'soccer'. He became a Manchester United supporter after becoming friends with Sir Matt Busby, and he's a big fan of the "kid with the bullet head and the Irish name", or Wayne Rooney as he's better known. Here's a picture of Angus (his real name) with one of his two cats. They're called Mac and Tosh by the way. If that was the kind of humour that his show was based on it's no wonder it got taken of after only two seasons. Only joking. He was a really kind and down to earth kind of guy.

Oh yea, he told me about the time he dated Marilyn Monroe as well. He rules.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

I've said it before, I'll say it again: Really?

So, apparantly, out of all of the films that were made last year; out of the hundreds and hundreds of possible candidates; of all the comedies, sci-fi adventures, murder mysteries, documentaries, thrillers, horrors, dramas and animations that were produced in 2005; Crash was the very best film out of the lot. Absolutely ridiculous. And that's all I want to say about that.

Moving on to better news. Did anybody get to see the Oscars 'telecast'? What an excellent show. I thoroughly enjoyed it until the last 5 minutes or so. I thought Jon Stewart was tremendous. The montages of old films that they showed were excellent. The mock party political broadcasts for the candidates (narrated by Stephen Colbert) were superious. Plus Billy Crystal was only on the show for about 15 seconds. It was all good.

More plus points include: my fiancee, Rachel Weisz, picking up a statue; Wallace and Gromit scoring big and then in turn bigging up Bristol (and then tainting the whole thing with a cringe worthy speech: "Cracking cheese Gromit"); Ben Stiller being hillarious; Phillip Seymour Hoffman deservedly winning; and heck it, well done to Clooney and Witherspoon as well. Those two having Oscars gives hope to us all.

Oh yea, in case anybody wanted to test my credentuals as an Oscars buff, I have the ultimate proof, I won the Hollywood U.S.A. Hostels Oscar trivia quiz. Well done me eh? I didn't get a little gold statuette, but they did give me two free drinks at the bar. Hurrah. Here are a selection of the correct answers I gave: Jodie Foster, 12, Robin Williams in Birdcage, she played a member of the opposite sex.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

And the Best Picture goes to...Crash!?!?

Really? Really, really, really, really? I think not.

I'll report back later about this bullshit (my apologies),

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

David Idiot more like

Just to remind you where I am...

This photo also serves the dual purpose of showing what it would be like if international football star, Kubo, decided to take a trip to the Hollywood sign. I think that he would enjoy such a hiatus from playing for the Japan national team greatly. Kubo-rrific.

Erm...here's George Harrison's old letter box. Enjoy.

Below is pictured Oscar winning actor, Mickey Rooney's, house. Please, don't get Mickey Rooney confused with England soccer star Wayne Rooney for heck's sake. That would be a dangerous move. Mind you, they do share certain similarities. They're both short and chubby. They've both won awards for excellence in their respective fields. They both have more money than me. They both enjoy the company of the older lady. However, Mickey Rooney has never played football for England, and Wayne Rooney has never auditioned to play Fallout Boy in the Simpsons. Yet.

I nipped up to Mulholland Drive the other day. Or perhaps I just imagined going to Mulholland Drive. But I must have gone there because when I woke up in the morning I still had the blue scarf that somebody had given me there. And the scarf was in a glass box. Be careful though, because if you drop that glass box, the whole of mankind (Have a nice day) will destruct. But don't worry, it won't actually destruct per se, it will just represent the apocalypse of man. The apocalypse of man though, is merely symbolism for mental illness. Also there were lesbians there. And a cowboy. And that bird from King Kong. No, not the 1933 one, the new one.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

78th Academy Awards

Question: Is there anything more boring than me talking about the Oscars?

For those of you who answered, "No", stop reading now.

For those of you who answered, "Yes. Reading the entirety of this blog", as much as I enjoy your integrity and gall, die.

For those of you answered, "Yes, of course. Have you never heard tennis on the radio before", I like you. You can stay.

Here are the OFFICIAL Midnight Devil Oscar predictions for tomorrow evening.

1. Jon Stewart is gonna be hella funny.
2. Rachel Weisz is gonna be hella pretty.
3. Adam Marshall is gonna be hella arrested when he tries to break into the Kodak Theatre and steal the Oscars statuettes.

BEST PICTURE:
What will win: Brokeback Mountain
What should win: I'd go with Good Night, And Good Luck. I've had the good fortune of seeing all five nominees. Good Night, And Good Luck was the best film out of the bunch as far as I was concerned. Mind you, as long as Crash doesn't win, I'll be content.

BEST DIRECTOR:
Who will win: Ang Lee for Brokeback Mountain
Who should win: Ang Lee for Brokeback Mountain. I think that he deserves it. It's a pretty handy film in parts, and it looks really nice. If I was being hyper critical of Brokeback I'd give Clooney the prize, simply because Clooney chose not to show me Heath Ledger buggering Jake Gyllenhaal.

BEST ACTOR in a LEAD ROLE:
Who will win: Phillip Seymour Hoffman for Capote
Who should win: Phillip Seymour Hoffman for Capote. Wow, what a performance. Truly brilliant. No way he's not winning this. Ledger was average. Phoenix I liked as Johnny Cash, and Strathaim was impressive. I'm told Terrence Howard could nip in as an outside bet. Alas, I've yet to see his performance.

BEST ACTRESS in a LEAD ROLE:
Who will win: Reese Witherspoon for Walk the Line
Who should win: Judi Dench for Mrs Henderson Presents. I actually think that Witherspoon did a fine job as June Carter and she deserves it. However, the thought of her actually having an Oscar. Eeeewwww. The same goes for Knightley, Theron for a second time, and the Desperate Housewife. Slap it on Dench. Why not.

BEST ACTOR in a SUPPORTING ROLE:
Who will win: Matt Dillon for Crash
Who should win: Jake Gyllenhaal for Brokeback Mountain. This contest intrigues me. I wish I'd seen more of the performances. Apparently William Hurt is haunting. Giamatti I'd like to see win in the future as Best Actor in another career defining role that he's likely to pull out. Clooney: nah. Gyllenhaal was thoroughly good I thought, but he should defo be in the 'lead role' group. It's a cop out dropping him in here in my very humble opinion. And please, please, please, please, please; never give an Oscar to Matt Dillon.

BEST ACTRESS in a SUPPORTING ROLE:
Who will win: Amy Adams for Junebug
Who should win: Catherine Keener for Capote. I think that Keener is excellent as 'To Kill A Mocking Bird' author Harper Lee. Williams is adequate as pissed of wife of a gaylord. I'm told Adams is impressive and McDormand is a bit of an Oscar darling. Also Weisz should win on sex appeal alone. Tough call deciding this one. Another tough call will be when I ring up Weisz to ask for her hand in marriage. She'll say yes. I know it.

BEST SCREENPLAYS, ORIGINAL/ADAPTED
What will win: Crash/Brokeback Mountain
What should win: Match Point/Munich

Now, I have done predictions for all of the awards but we don't need to discuss them now. I'll let you know how I did. Maybe you should do the same. Ok, don't bother. A couple of quick mentions though. I'd love to see Batman Begins pick up CINEMATOGRAPHY, but I wouldn't be upset if Brokeback Mountain does. "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp" from Hustle & Flow should win BEST SONG, just for it's title. And as I'm now an expert in knowing about DOCUMENTARIES (a documentalist, if you will) Darwin's Nightmare and God Sleeps in Rwanda will nab them, simply because of the subject matter. From the clips I saw of the films I'd deliver to Street Fight and The Death of Kevin Carter.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall
Documentalist

Wanna stay alive? Stay with me.

The title of this post is a quote from a film. That film, is Die Hard. Actually, it might be from one of the Die Hard video games. I forget. Either way, it's present because yesterday I went to see the Fox Plaza building, or as it's better known (in the first Die Hard film at least) Nakatomi Tower, where Bruce Willis kicks the crap out of a bunch of thieving Krauts. What a long. complicated way to describe such a dull detail. Also, I'll shove in some more Die Hard quotes during this post for my own amusement. For example:

Now I've got a machine gun. Ho Ho ho.

The last few days have been very perculiar, in a fun way. I spent a couple of days on a train traveling to Hollywood, Los Angeles. On the first night I was there I went to the Academy of Motion Picture where I was told there would be an exhibition of Oscars photos. I thought it may be worth a look. After a two hour walk getting there however, I found the exhibition closed as there was some kind of special event going down. I was intrigued naturally. I asked a few of the press guys and was told that this was the evening where they showcase the Oscar nominees for best Documentary and Short Documentary. They assumed that it would be invite only, but I managed to find out that even ramshackle members of the public such as myself were allowed to drop in. So I did.

Come out to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs...

Looking very much out of place, wearing the classic t-shirt, jeans, trainer, and Bam cap combo, the seemingly important men in suits and ladies in fine evening dresses, the kind of people that Brian in Spaced (series 1, episode 3) would describe as "just a bunch of wankers, influential people", chose to avoid me. This was fine. I played it to my advantage to give me time to knock down some brewskies and buffet food. I always did enjoy making free nourishment a friend of mine. And this was good food for important people. Food far too good for ruffians such as myself.

You might say that I was just the fly in the ointment. The monkey in the wrench. The pain in the ass.

So we got to see some extended highlights of the nominated features which was a lot of fun, and then the filmmakers stood up and said a few words themselves. Then I was allowed to get more drunk, still for zero pounds. At that point I had the privilege of being approached by a couple of thoroughly nice people. The lovely Stephania, a former documentary maker, and the cynical but extremely knowledgeable Adam, who remains in the docu business. They allowed me to bore them with my story, and they repaid me by fascinating me with their backgrounds and then scoring me a lift home. A bizarre evening, but one that I certainly won't forget in a while.

Yippee-ki-yay.

Since then I've knocked about a bit. Taking in some of the sights, as you do. Went on a thorough tour of Beverly Hills and Bel-Air, seeing the houses of the rich and the famous. Pitt and Aniston's old gaff was a bit tasty. And then they split up. Also, I chose to urinate in the toilet where George Michael was arrested for doing stuff with someone. It was a lot of fun. But certainly no more fun or no different from urinating anywhere else. Just the regulation amount of fun that anybody should have in the process of urinification. Got it? Good.

You didn't bring me along for my charming personality.

OK, I'll take mercy on you. I'm finished now. Go on, you can totter along now. Bye bye.

Happy trails and kind regards.

Adam Marshall

I've got Photos. This is Photos.

During the course of my last post I promised that I would supply some photos from my Mardi Gras weekend. Have I ever let you down before? The answer is no, by the way.

What with the parades and the ridiculous evening activities there is something for everyone.

For Tom Erskine for example, this may seem relevant:

This seemed fitting for the likes of Rikki 'the Hit Man' Hearn and Chris Gurney:

For Simon Hill, J20 Jonny Down and erm...let's say...Martin Jones, there's this entry:

And for anybody that I've left out, how's this:


Yes, that's right, I am egotistically alluding that I do consider myself as something for everybody. Plus, with the new buldge that I've stacked on since leaving the U.K. finally there is enough of me to go around. Also check out the foot fashion. I'm righteously displaying non-matching Converse shoes. It's the what I do. However, it's not a truly original idea. I saw Tommy Lee do it once and thought it looked cool. I'm hoping that my lack of symmetry will convince the likes of Pammie, Carmen Electra and Heather Locklear to become my friends. I'll let you know the results.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall