Marcus London Ain't Someone U Fuck With
Editor's Note: Leigh Cowart, NSFWCORP's sex and science editor, spent five days living with porn star Marcus London and his entourage before writing this remarkable profile, which first appeared in Issue Three of NSFWCORP's print edition.
One of the themes of the piece was its subject's eagerness to be accepted as a mainstream performer and director, not just a porn star.
Apparently Mr London should be careful what he wishes for. Shortly after the piece was published, he took to Twitter to voice his displeasure at the piece. He didn't dispute a single fact or quote (and nor could he -- as editor on the piece, I can testify to the pains Leigh took to ensure that Mr London was represented fairly and accurately) . Rather, his initial tweets were limited to the standard whining of a first time interviewee: the author had taken his words (his homophobia, his belief that disabled babies should be killed) out of context. Even his follow-up threat that "i ain't someone u fuck with" was more comical than troubling (Careful readers will note that Marcus London is a porn star. As such, his entire job is to be fucked with.)
From there, though, his posts became more menacing including specific and repeated threats to come to our office in Las Vegas to exact revenge, and comments about how he was trying to find the home address of NSFWCORP staffers.
NSFWCORP is no stranger to threats, and bigger men than Marcus London (5'7") have issued them. That said, it's a running "joke" at NSFWHQ that we spend our lives writing about Chechen bombers, CIA assassins and billionaire industrialists but it'll likely be a disgruntled nobody whose name we misspelled who shows up with a shotgun. Given his enthusiasm for fantasy gun-play, his demonstrable god complex and the fact that he is entirely unused to criticism, Marcus London might just be stupid enough to follow through on his threats. I can't adequately describe how ridiculous it feels to have to contact law enforcement in three states (Nevada, California and North Carolina) and explain that one of my writers is being threatened by a pint-sized cockney in a loin cloth. But such is the rich tapestry of this job.
Security precautions addressed, there remains the question of how to publicly respond to a man who thinks threatening a female writer with physical violence is a good way to bury an unflattering profile. A simple "stick your threats up your arse, you gobby little cunt" is one option, from one Brit to another. But that's somewhat lacking on the "teachable moment" front. A more effective response might be to demonstrate that, if anything, threatening our writers will only cause us to double down on our reporting. So here we go...
Ordinarily NSFWCORP print features do not appear online (except as pdf downloads for print subscribers). On this occasion, however, we've decided to make an exception -- unlocking the entire profile for the world to better get to know the man, the legend, the AVN award winner for best porn parody: Marcus London.
By Leigh Cowart
I’ve been with Marcus London less than ten minutes, and already we're watching porn. On the screen, a fleshy blur of jackhammering and grunting fills a set dressed to recall a Roman costume party. Marcus is a porn star. A short British man, covered in tan, with bulbous muscles that strain the veiny seams of his skin. He has closely cropped hair, translucent white teeth, and the kind of bright blue eyes that don’t require careful lighting to illuminate. Some faded tribal tattoos adorn his biceps, which bulge from what appears to be a woman’s black tank top.
He outlines his special gift as only Marcus London can:
“I can put my hand inside a woman and I can tell. I can feel things. Like car mechanics looking under the hood of a car, I know what does what.”
He has already informed me with professional pride that he recently set— created, then set—the world record for making women ejaculate: five women in thirty seconds. And he claims he can teach any man to make any woman “squirt.” For those without his natural expertise, he has created an educational DVD, and an extraordinary wristwatch.
We'll get back to the watch. At the moment he is cruising through porn tube sites, trying to find the pop-up ad that redirects to his series of instructional videos. A blur of bleached assholes, hypertrophied penises, and small, pink nipples cover the monitor. He can’t find the pop-up.
“I don’t have any respect for porn. Just ’cause I do it, don’t mean that I like it.” It’s daunting, the task of profiling a person. I want to get everything right, see all the angles, watch and learn and dissect and piece back together all the parts that so seamlessly blend together to make one whole person. Marcus London will prove to be a difficult study.
I first met Marcus at the 2013 Adult Entertainment Expo in Las Vegas, a massive convention of porn stars and pervy novelty products. The Expo is the cash-cow prelude to the "Oscars of porn," the Adult Video News (AVN) Awards. Marcus was in Sin City to promote “Spartacus MMXII: The Beginning,” a reimagining of the gladiatorial classic, with hardcore fucking. The movie, which Marcus had written, produced and directed, was a shoo-in for an AVN, but Marcus had far larger ambitions. Marcus was already a star, a two time AVN Award winner with over 384 film appearances to his name and a dozen directorial credits. He acted like a star too.
My assignment was to interview him at the penthouse suite at the Hard Rock Casino and Hotel. Seated in a deeply upholstered chair that dwarfed my frame, I waited for him to arrive. Meanwhile his smothering, schmoozy agent fussed over my shiny red hair and patted my arm every fifteen minutes or so with an update as to Marcus’s estimated time of arrival.
Finally The Star arrived, fresh from the airport, with his pretty blonde wife in tow. He shook my hand, invited me to sit back down, and motioned to his wife to do the same. Before we started, Marcus wanted to make one thing very clear. Even though "Spartacus" was nominated for “Best Porn Parody–Drama,” his masterpiece (based on the STARZ show, not the movie) was not a parody. In fact, Marcus practically flinched at the sound of the “p-word.” His preferred term was “sexually acted epic.” (Later that weekend, when "Spartacus" won, Marcus repeated this assertion from the stage. As if prepared for such an eventuality—and the lawsuits that would follow without a “parody” defense—a curvy blonde woman clamped her hand over his mouth and escorted him off stage). One on one, though, Marcus had free reign to explain what set his movie apart.
According to Marcus, the story of "Spartacus" is more important than porn. There's a story, there's music, there's “tasteful, artistic sex.” The sets were dressed by hand; the costumes were sewn by the cast in his garage turned- sweatshop; the music, carefully chosen, was soaring and essential. The fight scenes were practiced and perfected. The pubic hair was painstakingly groomed or attached with glue. And the overt theatricality of pornographic sex — the moaning and grinding — was toned down as much as possible. Marcus passionately explained his movie, the gap his work was filling, the bridge he was crossing, the new frontier he was exploring. His wife — who co-starred in the movie — sat absolutely silent.
It was shortly after the interview, as I walked back through the Expo hall, that I first encountered the watch. A giant cutout of Marcus loomed over the stand, which was enthusiastically manned by Aaron the engineer. Aaron, the watch's actual inventor, seemed delighted when I bought one. He threw in a second for free, as well as some instructional DVDs, brochures, and two bags of Gushers fruit snacks. Back at NSFWCORP’s downtown Vegas office, I showed the watch to my editor, Paul.
Battling with an eyelash curler in preparation for the AVN Awards Show, I explained the story of Marcus, his silent wife, his desire to break into mainstream cinema and—of course— the watch.
“It doesn’t tell time?” Paul asked.
There was no doubt in either of our minds: I was going to be spending a lot more time with Marcus London.
Part Two: “How can a virus hide from people?”