I went to Dallas the other day; I ate thirteen worms along the way

A few days ago I wound up in Dallas. It seemed like the right thing to do. I went to the Dealey Plaza Book Depository (or Book 'suppository' as my Dad amusingly brands it. That guy's a wit. Or at least something that rhymes with wit. Sorry papa, again I'm doing jokes). The said Depository was where JFK had his life ended by a bullet which removed a fair segment of his brain. There is a museum there now which is pretty cool. It explains about his life, death and legacy. I hope to one day be honored similarly. All I need is a death and a legacy. And a life.

I also headed to the Conspiracy Museum. It details some of the, well, conspiracies about JFK's death. I must say that many of the arguments that the exhibition gave were very convincing. It leaves you not knowing what to believe. Was it Lee Harvey Oswald from the depository? Was it some dodgy geezer from the Grassy Knoll? Was it the driver of the car that JFK rode in? Who knows? One conclusion I did come to though was this: the gunman certainly was not AlexForce; I've seen him play Timesplitters 2 and he's one of the worst shots around. Burn.

The bus ride (yawn) to Dallas was a story in itself. A very pretty young lady deemed it appropriate to sit next to the Midnight D. 'Lucky girl', I hear yee cry. Well as she was getting 'comfortable' for the journey she saw no harm in resting her right buttock against my left outer-thigh, and proceeded to leave it there for the entirety of the trip. It was the most action I've had in a while, certainly. All it would have taken was for me to pivot to the right about 45 degrees and we would have some arse-to-arse action going on; Requiem for a Dream style. You know, the bit at the end with oscar winning actress Jennifer Connelly. Sordid.

Also, never underestimate the blind patriotism and national pride of the yanks. Chatting on the bus, I mentioned to the girl that I was going to Dallas "to see where JFK got his head shot up". I got some very dirty looks from the hick travelers around me.

I was gonna insert a photo here for Dominic Hudson's benefit. It was gonna be my interpretation of JFK's death. It would have hosted a red t-shirt shrouded around my head, placed strategically to appear like blood and brains and stuff. I chose not to, deeming the act childish.

That's enough for now. Apologies to father for the burn. I couldn't resist scorching both male and female parents in the space of two posts.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

Playing Catch-Up...Classic Henry Kelly

'Going for Gold' really was a great program wasn't it. I remember one time, many many moons ago, when I lived in Croydon and I had a day off school because I was ill. My mum was at home also; I forget exactly why. Perhaps she was 'between jobs' at the time. Lazy cow (Mother dearest, I am of course joking. Apologies). I laid on the setee all snugly wrapped up in a blanket. Mother and I watched Going for Gold which was 'competently' hosted by Henry Kelly. Then for lunch the old bird made me boiled eggs with toast soldiers of course, just the way that Adam liked/likes it. I devoured the feast. Then I proceeded to vomit/puke/barf the aforementioned meal back out from whence it came. There was egg and bile everywhere. Mother was charged with the duty of clearing up the mess. Serves her right really, she should have been working, the lazy cow.

That is my memory of 'Going for Gold'. Some people may remember one of Henry Kelly's catchphrases as being "playing catch-up". Well that's exactly what I've been doing over the last few days. The combination of unlimited internet access and unlimited bad television has rewarded me with the opportunity to catch-up with some news stories and the like, courtesy of the world wide web.

One that caught my eye was an article that I read about certain north London-based Premiership footballers, and it comes from a very reliable source. Well the 'news' was that three players in particular, each with England caps under their belts, enjoyed getting a bit fruity with one another, so to speak, on a regular basis. In layman's terms, they have sessions where they smash eachother in (as my good friend Reuben Alozie would phrase it). Haunting stuff, especially when you consider who these guys are, and who one of them is engaged to. Plus, the story must be true because I read it on the News of the World website.

Also, I read that James Bond fans are going to boycott Casino Royale. The reason: because Daniel Craig is short and blonde. I get the feeling that some boycotters though, have probably seen the film Layer Cake (co-starring Francis Magee) and are basing their no-show on that. However, if it's true that the Bond producers are enjoying vertically and brunettely challenged gents nowadays, then maybe yours truly should throw his hat in to the ring. The name's Devil. The Midnight Devil. It works on so many levels.

Just to remind everybody, the Academy Awards are taking place on the 5th of March. I tried to get a ticket for Jennifer Love Hewitt's Oscar charity bash the other day. Yea, it didn't happen. I found a nice little Oscar quiz earlier. I have even provided the link if you wanna try it, which is dead handy (as my good friend Reuben Alozie would phrase it), hither: www.time.com/time/oscarquiz/. I got 5/5 by the way. Obviously.

On the same website, I also found this Oscars picture.


(Going clockwise, from top left: Giamatti, Clooney, Hoffman, Ledger, Weisz, Adams, Witherspoon, Huffman). Reason I like the picture: Ledger could either kiss or spark out Hoffman from that position. Reason I hate the picture: It's really, really horrible.

Take care y'all, and kind regards.

Adam Marshall

A Bit of R+R

The last few days have been an ideal time for me to sit back, put my feet up and gobble down some chill pills, or 'great tasting frozen Italian-style pizzas' as the box choses to put it. So the last few days have involved a lot of sitting about and watching the television, which reminded me of being back at Uni...wow, that one got boring a long time ago.

This lack of activity therefore has resulted in a dearth of even half interesting things to say. Hence I had to resort to telling sob stories of excursions gone wrong and conjuring top 3 lists on given subjects. Some people (Simon Hill) however weren't satisfied with my offerings. Some people (Simon Hill) felt the need to criticise me. Some absolute idiots (Simon Hill, and also this time I'm gonna add John Baker and...yea, my brother Ross) were quite offensive in their dissent. Well I never was one for petty name calling, so I'll simply proffer those morons an apology.

I could have told you about my brother, Ben's, CD collection. This is a catalogue which inexplicabally contains all 4 Embrace albums and a Bare Naked Ladies LP.

I could have made two confessions to everybody. The first one being that I finally today got around to watching the film 'Leon' for the very first time (Brilliant film. One thing though: I think that the title is a bit lame; they should have called it 'The Professional' or something cool like that). The second confession I could have made is that I found Natalie Portman illeagally alluring in that film. Not a patch on Drew Barrymore in E.T. though.

I could have bored everybody with a joke about the guy who sat behind me on the bus to Nashville. It materialised that his name was 'Don Wayne'. I was very tempted to ask him whether his nickname was 'the Juke'.

I could have taken the timeout to say a couple of thank yous. Thank you very much to my bro and his lady wife Leslee for example, for very kindly letting me live for free, or rather almost free (I had to buy Ben a drink the other day. Selfish bastard), in their house for a week or so. You can see a photo of the aforementioned souls below. Ben is pulling a silly face. He's such a card.


A long overdue thank you also to another lovely couple, Dave and Pete, who allowed Bakes, J20 Johnny Down and I to kick it with them for almost two weeks. Outstanding work guys. I don't have a photo of those cats, but here is one artist's impression of them.


I could have asked pressing questions such as: how is Keira Knightley an Oscar nominated actress?; do you think Natalie Portman would ever agree to marry me?; what's a John Cena?; where did those titles on my posts suddenly come from? and why is Simon Hill such a massive gaylord?

But I didn't, so for that I apologise.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

Top 3 of Everything

I was shocked that nobody came back with this response to my last two posts:

"Hey Marsh. The most pointless 24 hours of my life was the day I spent reading your last two ridiculously long blog entries. Twat."

But I took the fact that nobody did as a massive compliment. It made me feel so good in fact, that I have chosen to offer some more top 3s.

People I wish I was mates with:
3. Eugene from Grease
2. Tim Bisley (Happy 36th birthday to Simon Pegg by the way)
1. Philip J. Fry

Films I've seen since leaving England:
3. Capote
2. Munich
1. 40 Year Old Virgin

Words I reckon I've used most in this blog thus far:
3. Kind
2. Midnight
1. Burn

Expenditures that I most begrudge:
3. Going to Shittsburgh
2. Being conned out of $7 by a tramp
1. Paying $20 to sit in a pub and watch England play rugby

Reasons why the Kill Bill soundtrack, which would have been awesome, has been ruined:
3. The 5,6,7,8's getting overplayed to eternity
2. Awful human - Chris Moyles - overplaying the main theme to eternity
1. The Audiobullys desecrating the Nancy Sinatra song. "Bang bang, my baby shot me dow dow dow dow dow dow dow dow dow down". Horrible

'Crazy' things that irritating English tourists have bragged about doing:
3. Eating cookies with jalepeno peppers
2. Asking random women on trains to marry them
1. Pouring vodka on cornflakes instead of milk ("Actually it was delicious", shut up, moron)

Things I love about Arsenal:
3. The fact they have probably the worst first XI in the Premier at the moment
2. The fact they're playing like the 2nd worst team in the Premier (after Sunderland, obviously) at the moment
1. Seeing Martin Keown's face in the crowd as they conceded the winner against Bolton on Saturday (and knowing that Stringers will be sharing his dismay)

Things I enjoyed when watching the Miami Heat game:
3. The horrible whiney old guy sitting next to me looking like the seemingly dead sidekick, George, of Donald Trump in Apprentice U.S.A.
2. His seemingly dead wife looking like the horrible whiney old sidekick, Carolyn, of Donald Trump in Apprentice U.S.A.
1. Me therefore being Donald Trump, bad hair and all.

Favourite ways that I've asked for beer:
3. I think I'll have a pint of bitter
2. Bud Lite me
1. Serving wench, bring me another beer

Sexy Uma Thurman moments:
3. Kill Bill: Vol 1 when she pretends to be a U.S. tourist in Japan
2. Pulp Fiction when she dances with John Travolta
1. The Producers. Jee-zuse. Extremely impressive.

Favourite impressions:
3. Krang - by Eifion Jones
2. Arnold Schwarzenegger - by Simon Hill
1. Oskar Kokosha - by Adam Marshall

Least favourite impressions:
3. Arsene Wenger/Gerard Houllier/Thierry Henry/Eric Cantona/Sven Goran Ericsson (they're all the same) - by Jon Hill
2. Andy Townsend - by Jon Hill
1. Adam Marshall - by Jon Hill

People that I like who I'll probably never talk to again:
3. Chris Slack
2. Ian Rush
1. The ever delightful Katie Balentine

Easily forgettable spells at football clubs:
3. Paul Ince at Liverpool
2. David Ginola at Everton
1. Big Duncan Ferguson at Newcastle United

Things that I like that I would never have predicted this time last year:
3. Robbie Fowler moving back to Liverpool
2. Philip Seymour Hoffman winning a Golden Globe and an Oscar nomination
1. Going to the Royal Rumble and seeing a World Title change hands

Things that I dislike that I would never have predicted this time last year:
3. Liverpool winning the Champions League and THEN buying Peter Crouch
2. Reese Witherspoon winning a Golden Globe and an Oscar nomination
1. Going to the Royal Rumble and seeing Rey Mysterio Jnr. dedicate his win to a deceased Eddie Guerrero

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

Pointless 24 Hours; No. 2 - 1

Yo, I came back to finish putting a sleeper hold on this entire crowd by concluding my top 3 most pointless 24 hour periods. If ya wanna see numero 3, check out the post below.

2. This 'day' occurred in the spring of 2003. I was living in Bristol at the time on a road called Park Street in some halls of residence. Ok, so this one Sunday right, I got up at about 11.30am yea, and I watched some rubbish television (this was in the pre-The O.C. days) for a bit yea. Then right, me and my mate AlexForce went to the Crown for a bit yea, and had some pints of beer. Serious. Then right, we went to the Hatchet for a bit yea, and had some pints and played some pool. Then yea, eventually we went back to the halls and at about 11.30pm I went to sleep, right. You get me.

1. At 8.30am on Friday the 3rd of February 2006, I stepped on to a bus in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I traveled for 6 hours on said bus and arrived in Pittsburgh, or as I became fond of calling it (and please forgive the profanity, but I'm sure you'll see its necessity in aiding an offensive and devilishly clever pun) Shittsburgh. I went to the city because their American Football team, the Steelers, were playing in the Superbowl that Sunday and I fancied a party. And you know how much I like to party.

I made my way to the area that the youth hostel's website said it was. It was frankly a horrible part of town. When I reached the correct address, the building where the youth hostel was supposed to be located was sitting there with boarded up windows and seemingly devoid of any life. Upon my enquiries in the next door convenience store, I was amusingly told that the hostel had in fact closed down 2 years ago.

So I was stranded in Pittsburgh, or as I became fond of cal...oh, sorry I did that one already. But I wasn't about to make this a wasted journey, oh no. I knew that in the city, about 40 blocks away, was the place where Hannibal Lecter in the Oscar winning film 'Silence of the Lambs' cut some geezer's face off and escaped imprisonment. I began to walk there, all I knew was that I could do without wasting money on a taxi.

What I didn't know however, was that the neighborhood between the Soldiers and Sailors War Memorial where I was headed and I, was what many would call 'a bit dodgy'. It's the kind of area where gangs of homies stand on street corners discussing current affairs and holding guns. The kind of area that you get shot at just for walking through...if you're playing Grand Theft Auto. The kind of area that my brother, Ross, had warned me about going in to.

I felt my best approach would be to stand tall, chin up, and I strided my way through the 'hood in an attempt not to allow the locals to notice the distinct shade of brown that my underwear had turned. I was getting a few funny looks but I marched on. At one point a home girl began walking with me. Despite her lack of teeth, I managed to distinguish her asking, "Hey boy, why yo walkin' so fast?". I wittily, so I thought, retorted, "By walking quickly, I really find that I get to where I want to go in less time". She didn't seem so amused, so I further picked up the pace and rapidly escaped her gummy glare.

I got to my destination eventually, took a couple of blurry photos, and got the bus back to where I had started. So the whole episode was really worthwhile.

The problem remained though that I was still stranded in Shittsburgh. As if this wasn't issue enough, it really was one of the worst places that I've ever been to, and I've been to Shelton Lock (Burn) and Thulston (Burn. Ouch that actually really hurts). I managed to while away three hours in Starbucks so that I could ponder my next actions. I drank lots of tea and kept nicking the free cake testers, much to the camp, foolish assistant's chagrin (Ooooo, nice word. People like Rebecca Sherren Robinson may want to look that one up. Miss Wild would be so proud). I decided to do the only logical thing and later that night I was on a bus back to Philadelphia. I arrived there at about 8.20am on Saturday the 4th of February, just shy of 24 hours after I had left.

So that's it. Done. We'll never talk about this again.

A couple of shout outs that I'd like to offer at this point. Firstly, for anybody who knows Isabel Catherine Anderson. She's off traveling the world at the moment with her comrade Tracey Davey. She is keeping a TravelPod, which is much like this blog, except she actually has things of interest to say. It can be found hither:

www.travelpod.com/members/izzyanderson

Also, for anybody who knows, and for those of you who don't know, James Hankins, he has been keeping a blog for a while now. It can be found at the address below and it is funny stuff. Also, there is a picture of me on it, so it must be good:

www.beansonbread.blogspot.com

Enjoy.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

Pointless 24 Hours; No. 3

There is no doubt in my mind (not the band, that would be uncomfortable) that yesterday was St. Valentine's Day. Spending it this year, as I did, with my bro and his mrs, I took some time out to remember the various Valentine's Days that I've spent with very special individuals in the past. I think that possibly the most special and intimate occasion was last year, upon which myself and the ever delightful Jon Hill enjoyed each other's company whilst watching 'good' band, the Bravery. Wow, what a night.

The last day or so have been good, very very good indeed. I arrived in Nashville, Tennessee, or 'Music City' as they have frivourously branded it. It has given me a bit of time to chill out as they say, whiling away hours at a time watching an illegally young Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen in episodes of 'Full House'. Also I've watched my fair share of man hours of 'That's So Raven', or 'Fat's So Raven' as I've hilariously changed it to because the eponymous character has piled on the pounds somewhat. It's a dangerous game to watch so much of that program though, because every time that Raven falls over, or dresses up in a silly costume, or gats some Gs with her nine, you find your self saying "Oh, that is so Raven". But then this translates and extrapolates to real life, so that when my sister-in-law Leslee returns home from work and falls down and breaks her knees off, I just sit there and smile saying "Oh, that is so Leslee" as opposed to calling the relevant emergency service.

I don't feel right being too rejoiceful over my last couple of days. I feel like I need to dampen the mood a little, Adam Marshall style. Therefore, I give to thee a run down, in reverse order of course, of the three most pointless 24 hour periods of my life. Should be a hoot.

3. At 9.35pm on Saturday the 11th of February 2006, I arrived at Richmond bus station in the state of Virginia. I had just spent about one and a half hours traveling there on a Greyhound bus from Washington D.C. I would have to, I was told, wait about an hour before the bus heading towards Nashville was due to leave. The weather outside however, was snowing heavily with the promise of even heavier snow to come. And this sometimes romanticized climate condition was the root of all problems for the next 24 hours.

At 10.30pm the bus was cancelled with 'inclement' weather taking the blame. But no matter, I thought, the next bus is at 30 minutes after midnight. Only a bit of a delay really. Ben and Leslee could still fry me a kipper, I'll be home for breakfast. So I bought myself a book of Sudoku and settled down to rattle my way through some of those bad boys for the next couple of hours.

At about 12:15am, I was within spitting distance of completing the first puzzle, the public address system guy spat out some rather disturbing news. The news was as follows: "The 12.30 service through Tennessee is cancelled due to inclement weather". Humbug I thought, as anything stronger might offend my blog readers/reader/mum. A few other travelers felt stronger, and vocalized this strength to the incompetent customer services guy. He responded with malice: "Correction. Due to inclement weather, all services until further notice have been cancelled". "Bam", I knew he wanted to add but restrained himself.

'In for a long wait, I am', I said in my best Yoda voice (in my head), and as always, my Yoda voice was right. I discovered that the next bus due was at 5.30am, ouch. I thought that in that time, I may as well get some sleep. The problem with such a plan was the sheer amount of social rejects and dregs of society who littered the establishment in which I wished to slumber. I wrapped the straps of my knapsack around my arm, and placed my suitcase inaccessibly between myself and the wall. I thought about putting my passport and wallet down my underpants, after all from my life's experience no person was likely to put their hand down there (self deprecating burn. Bam). But then I realized that comfort held higher priority at that point than security or that joke, so I didn't bother. I settled down to score some Zs on the dirty dirty floor and passed out immediately.

I was awoken a few hours later, with limbs still in tact, with a reminder that all services Tennessee-wards were cancelled, and a confirmation that this was to include the 5:30 journey. "Gosh and bother", I exclaimed, still censoring my words. I decided to spend this portion of my time just watching the retards in front of me. One guy continually did the exploding nose thing that sportsmen do, straight on to the floor. One dad repeatedly did beat boxing in an effort to make his baby son dance. One lovely young lady kept shouting at random people for no reason. Too many people were wearing their jeans with the waist band barely above their knees, and thus the crotch area virtually dragging on the floor. As if this doesn't look stupid enough anyway, it also makes them waddle when they walk and thus they end up looking like akin to when people amusingly put shoes on their knees, kneel down, and then walk around like they've got little legs.

When I tell you that the 12:30pm bus was then cancelled I know that you will all hold a worry as to my loneliness. Well don't worry, one group of people noticed that I was kicking it on my own and took me under their wing as a kind of mascot. Yep, I counted myself sooooo lucky that the group of about 8 tramps who had entered the bus station to escape the hideous weather felt the need to keep me company. After all I had another 5 hours until the next scheduled bus, so it was a bonus that their 'funny' jokes and stories about life on the street came at that time.

I was even more please for their company when that bus was cancelled. Inclement weather was the cause apparently. The tramps soon got bored of my expressionless face and nonplussed responses to their banter, and mercifully left me alone again. This gave me the chance to half complete another couple of Japanese number puzzles and try to name the 50 U.S. states. I did well, only missing Oklahoma, New Hampshire, Iowa, and West Virginia.

Anyway, to make a really long story euthanasiasticly a little shorter, by 8.20pm the inclement weather had apparently passed. Just less than 23 hours after arriving in Richmond, Virginia I was on a bus about to embark upon a 13 hour Greyhound journey to Nashville, Tennessee.

Ok, that's it. Considering I've dubbed it a pointless 24 hours, it took me a hell of a lot of words to describe it. Massive apologies for that. I'll do numbers 2 and indeed 1 later on. Don't get your hopes up, they aren't gonna be any more interesting than what you've just read/skimmed/skipped.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

One Wedding and Two Funerals

I went to Arlington Cemetery earlier which is pretty famous and plays host to many U.S. veterans from the two main wars, Korea, and also Vietnam. It didn't do it for me really. Nope, looking at hundreds and hundreds of graves; I hardly felt a thing. There are two possible explanations for this. One is that I have been desensitized to that kind of thing over the years. Seeing war and death on television and in films it is easy to take them for granted as it were I feel. The other, and more probable, explanation is that I am dead inside. My heart and my soul are indeed a wasteland now it seems. Oh well. I'll get over it.

On happier news, I saw J.F.K.'s final resting place. It was pretty underwhelming I felt. It was smaller even than the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, which I think is ridiculous because what did he ever do? He didn't become president, nobody can even remember his name. Very peculiar. In a few weeks I get to see where Mr Kennedy...Kennedy got his head caved in from a bullet delivered especially for his cranium from the rifle of Lee Harvey Oswald. I seem therefore to be going back in his history. Maybe after that I'll get to see the place where he banged Marilyn Monroe. And then the place where he bribed the Mafia to help him win the election to become el presidente.

Tomorrow I get to sit in on a bus trip to Nashville. The length of such a journey is just over 15 hours. Good times. Good Charlotte. At that city, I get to kick it with my bro for a bit. This will include desecrating any Valentines Day plans he may have made with his lady wife. Hehe, how funny is that. Not very, actually its thoughtless and cruel. But what are ya gonna do, huh?'

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

A Bad Day/Face

Above is a building called the Ford Theatre. It is the place where honest (or dishonest as I like to say sometimes. Burn) Ab Lincoln got his head caved in from a bullet delivered especially for his cranium from the pistol of John Wilkes Booth. Another amusing tale from Washington D.C.

So, I'm still here in this great nation's capital city. Great nation, brilliant. So much to see, so little time. But not much of interest to say. Actually, I will say this; today has been a bit of an off day for the Midnight D. It started off when it turned out that I'd left my cap in the hostel. It meant that my head was cold for the duration. "Bbbrrrrr" I would say, but I could garner no sympathy from random passers-by. Bastards.

Then things went worse. Loads of museums that I wanted to go in were closed. The F.B.I building. The Spy museum (which sounded really cool). The National Portrait Gallery. All closed to the public. 'Which incompetent fool is running this country?' I thought to myself. Answers on a postcard please.

Maybe I didn't exactly choose a wise method of cheering myself up. I went to the National Holocaust museum. Yea, that wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs. It was like watching four televisions at the same time. Two showing Schindler's List, one showing The Pianist, and one showing the Catherine Tate Show. Bad, bad news.

Here is a visual offering in aid to demonstrate my contrasting moods over the last couple of days.

To the right is an image of a capped and happy Adam Marshall. His face displays the visage of a man who had earlier drunk tea whilst going up an escalator. He's happy. He's content. He's ready to go and see the White House and take loads of photos. On the left is the sullen face being cast by the Jefferson Memorial. He's cold. He has no cap. His i-Pod battery has run out. He's just sat through an episode of Titty Titty Bang Bang. Oh dear oh dear. He wonders why everybody prefers the Lincoln Memorial.

I need some food. A jerk chicken sandwich me thinks. Hermes Conrad would be proud.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

A Good Day

They say you should try something new everyday. They will be very happy with the Midnight Devil then. Today, for the very first time in my life, I drunk tea while going up an escalator. I liked it and in fact I may one day endeavor to repeat the feat. It really set me up for the day well; after I had done it I felt that nothing could ruin this day. A gangster could have shot my head out with a Glock 17 and you know what, it wouldn't have dampened my mood one bit.

Whilst trekking around Washington I chose to do a robot walk as I crossed a particular road. This, as opposed to the above, is of course something I've done many, many times. However, usually it is just for my own amusement. Today though it also made a fellow crosser laugh with child-like delight. Good for her I thought, here is a woman who doesn't feel even the slightest embarrassment at giggling uncontrollably at a weird little 22 year old English fella impersonating an automaton as he crosses a freeway. I respected her in an odd way.

I've been nailing the sights. The Lincoln memorial, the Jefferson memorial, the Washington monument. Yawn. Yea, U.S. presidents are a lot of fun and all, but do we have to build costly (to time, money, and space) mementos to some half-arsed job they did over a hundred years ago. The answer is no, obviously. What was awesome though, was the Franklin Delano Roosevelt memorial. That guy really is the don. He had polio (look it up; you won't) dammit, and he still ruled harder than anyone else. It had some awesome FDR quotes an' all: "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself". I give you genius ladies and gentlemen. Here is a statue of he in a wheel chair. And no Hilly, the black guy with the dreads in the BBC adverts is not cooler than FDR. Idiot.

Also I went to the White House. They didn't let me in.


I was gonna stay here for a bit too. I didn't fancy paying the 279 bucks for a night though. So I didn't get to see Nixon; or Nixon's head; or Nixon's head on a robotic body.



Yesterday was also a good day. I went to the Capitol which is the equivalent of our Houses of Parliament. Went to the House of Representatives bit where Bushy boy did his State of Union Address last week. Also I went to the Senate where I was lucky enough to see the senators in action doing a vote about asbestos or something. What the problem was with the popular kitchen cleaning product, I don't know. But it was cool. John Kerry (the dude trying to batter Bush in the last election) minced in. Tall fella though. Much taller than Hillary Rodham Clinton who also turned up. In a fight, I reckon he'd batter her. She came really close to the viewing gallery. Any closer and I woulda been able to Swanton Bomb her, and then while she was down I could have locked her in the Midnight Snack and made her tap out like a little girl. Bam.

That's all I need to say I reckon. Oh, apart from that Hillary Clinton is a bit foxy. Tell me I'm wrong. You know you can't.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

The City of Brotherly Love: A Review

I left Philadelphia yesterday. This was done with some regret. I really like the place; for these reasons:

1. The history. For example, I saw where the Declaration of Independence was actually signed in 1776. You have to realise the magnitude of that. That was the exact moment where the U.S. severed ties with Brits and let us get on with things without their burden. That's not a bad thing, it's a good thing.

2. The people that I met. Allow me to give a brief run down:
- Dan the proverbial man. He was a lank haired 'soccer' (shudder) fan. I scored his 'cell phone' (shudder) number, not in a gay way. Obviously.
- Nicole. A delightful looking blonde redneck. She liked talking to me because we both study/ied law, and because I showed interest in a book that she's writing. I liked talking to her because she was a delightful looking blonde. You know why, because I'm a bloody bloke.
- Brit & Brian. Twins apparently. Actually I think Brian was a little slow. Brit asked me if she was a 'bird' with a badly constructed and poorly rehearsed English accent. I so much wanted to reply 'I don't know, it's difficult to tell these days', but I thought that was unadvisable from a guy traveling alone and trying to meet new people.
- John and Tommy (or Taw-mee, as I understand it was to be pronounced). These were a couple of New Yorkers. Thoroughly good guys. John was an ex-movie producer. Plus he looked like an Italian version of Ben Groom, if anybody knows who Ben Groom is, so he was alright by me.

3. Philly Cheese Steaks. The local dish. Basically a steak sarnie with a bit of cheese on, but still tasty. I got mine from a place voted best Philly Cheese Steaks 2001, and they certainly hadn't let their standards drop in the last 5 years. Good work boys.

4. The little coffee shops, delis and boutiques. I'm not gay or owt, but I like stuff like I just mentioned to the left there. John Baker would probably quote from the film '40 Year Old Virgin' at this point and say ''I know you're gay because you like little coffee shops, delis and boutiques". In response, I would have nothing.

5. John Baker (shudder) wasn't there.

6. A shop selling the best/worst t-shirt ever. You too can see the best/worst t-shirt ever. I've helpfully displayed a photo of the aforementioned garment below.


But I'm in Capitol City now. D.C. baby. It seems nice as well. Some guy offered me some weed just now on the street, not in a seedy way, but in an old weirdo being friendly kinda way. Don't worry ma, I didn't accept. The influences of the evil Stuart Costen haven't affected me too much. I did drink some beer yesterday though. Dam you Stu, dam you to hey. Plus I get free internet at this hostel; I think I may just stay here and batter Hilly at online draughts all day.

On second thoughts, I'm going to see the White house.

Bye bye, and kind regards.

Adam Marshall

Finders Keepers

Gosh darn it.

I wrote this really long post earlier about my trip to Pittsburgh. Inexplicably it has disappeared. Until I find the time/drive to re-write the script, you can settle for this amusing ruse that I conjured while I was in South Beach, Miami. To get the CITV based joke, and have the chance to laugh, you must first understand that Miami is an area that is famous for a style of architecture called 'Art Deco'. Mind you, avid readers Craig Stott and Jon Hill's dad probably already knew that. Here goes.

This is an Art Deco Attack....


This is an Art Deco Attack...


This is 'ART DECO ATTACK'.

Then that God awful music would start. Then I'd either have to sit through my mum getting over excited about the big art attack, or Camilla and Jayne calling Buchanan a fake and a phony and wishing they'd never layed eyes on him.

God, that was even more dull than even I had imagined it would be. Oh well, could have been worse. This guy could have turned up.


I must retire in Neil Buchanan induced shame now, ta-ra.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

Ben Franklin and I

Hey yo. Just a quicky today. Not that kind of quicky, Hilly. You wish.

I'm in Philadelphia now, and my God what a great city. I love it here. They actually have some history that dates back more than 80 years ago. In fact my hostel is situated in the 'Old City' which is host to some pleasant old architecture and small cobbled streets and the like.

Because this was the capital when the declaration of independence was signed they have some nice museums. Independence Hall for example, where the declaration was signed. Also they have the Liberty Bell. It is meant to represent liberty, obviously, and freedom, and this said it amuses me therefore that it has a massive crack down it. I've seen the bell before of course. I ollied over it once in Tony Hawk 2. Here is the bell, with me giving a Dalai Lama style peace sign in front of it. The joke is on the Bell however, because with my other hand, I'm crossing my fingers, thus discounting the effects of the peace sign. Ha! Have that, liberty.


I skanked my way in to a museum earlier today. I entered in the exit door thus saving myself $15. I rule out loud, I really do. They had this room of statues of the men that signed the aforementioned Declaration. I was wary that one of them may have been a performing artist, like the ones at Convent Garden or Pier 41, and was gonna jump out on me. There wasn't. Then I was gonna DDT Ben Franklin. I chose not to. I also took a photo of myself subtly situed amongst the statues. Can you spot me? Wow, this is like 'Where's Wally?' but better because I'm in it. Mind you, over here they probably call it 'Where's Waldo?' or something equally as daft.


Also I went to the Mint, where they literally make money. The guy at the front desk said "Unfortunately we don't give away free samples". I laughed, sympathetically. I was gonna respond, 'I bet you say that to all the good looking guys', but I knew that if I had, some wicked minded foes of mine such as Martin Jones or James Gale will have offered some 'amusing' comment about good looking guys and how I don't fall in to that category. Well, I haven't given you the chance to mock me so. I win again. Also at the Mint, they make medals. One that was on display that brought memories back was one awarded to a poet called Robert Frost. On the medal there was one of his poems, 'The Gift Outright'. Hey, it could of been worse, it could of been 'The Road Not Taken'. Hey, am I right or what? Hey? Anybody? No takers? Ok, I'll never mention Robert Frost or his poetry again.

Ok, go away.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall

It's The What I Did

First of all I want to thank the Academy for my nomination in the Best Supporting Actor category for this year's Oscars. My excellent work in the A To Me If production of 'In Passing' deserved the plaudit. Thank you. Matt Dillon, you're going down, son.

If only I could record my voice on this computer I would, to say a belated 'Happy birthday to ya, Happy birthday to ya. Happy Birthdaaaaaaay'. That is to Stuart P. Costen who joined the 22 club yesterday. Well done sir. It was probably Gail Hudson Walker's birthday too, but that doesn't matter. By the way Tom, we're all having a 22 club gathering in a couple of weeks if ya wanna c...oh, actually forget that. I forgot.

At the end/start of an old/new month, here is a kind of 'Adam Marshall's trip to the United States of America: A Review'. I'll warn you now, it's gonna be really dull.

Things that have I have found annoying:

- Gym employees outside their places of work offering me leaflets and telling me to "Stay Healthy" with a muscley smile.
- Black gangster types asking me whether or not I am pimpin'. If my reply is "I am indeed pimpin'. Thanks for asking", then their questions continue by enquiring as to just how many hos I may or may not have.
- Large groups of people blocking 'sidewalks'.
- People who complain far too much, especially on transport. "I'm too hot"; "I'm too cold". "This seat is too soft"; "This seat is too firm". "That baby is crying too loudly"; "That baby isn't crying loudly enough".
- Seattle being too cold.
- Miami being too hot.
- Places still playing Christmas songs.
- John Baker
- Having to converse with a yank, a frog, and a German bastard - all at the same time.

Things that I have found funny:

- Going in to really nice restaurants during their happy hour (50% off) and still ordering the cheapest thing on the menu. The waiting staff look at me as if I had just vomited over the arms of their first born child. It's great.
- My brother, Ben's, heel turn.
- A conversation I had with a Bostonian in a Miami hostel:
Him: So where are you from? Michigan or something.
Me: No, I'm English.
(Later) Him: Hey, you speak pretty good English.
Me: Yea, well I am from England.
Him: Oh. I'm never sure what you speak over there. I was thinking Dutch.
- People using the word 'Outstanding' excessively.
- Absolutely burning this barman who was chatting up a waitress in a bar I was in last night. He suffered.
- Horrible wrestling fans who think they know everything but are blatantly idiots. Kinda like J2O and Jack Steele.

Songs I have enjoyed:

Weezer; Across the Sea
ELO; Mr Blue Sky
The Rifles; Peace + Quiet
The Darkness; Growing On Me
Interpol; Not Even Jail
Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass; Spanish Flea

People I have inexplicabley dreamt about:

- Richard Skinner and Tom Erskine; the three of us went on a road trip. I thought this strange since those two absolutely hate each other.
- Alfonso Ribeiro; he plays Carlton in the Fresh Prince of Bel Air.
- Catherine Alexander; she was asking me to help her with an application form for a job.
- Katie Holdstock's sister; I forget her name, the blonde one, only a few years younger than us, a bit tasty, you know.

That's it. Gosh, that was long. And dull, just as predicted.

Kind regards.

Adam Marshall