<p>Where to eat in Melbourne when you're dead, the song of the Gucci obsessed toyboy, dieting for zombies, why it's best not to burn bridges while you're standing on one, and THE END, the real end. Thank you and goodnight.</p>

"I cook for fashion victims, festival goers, sports fans, dead people (never explain), horsey types, celebrities with cheese fixations &amp; Japanese school children. 21st century Australia?!? There's squalor, cockroaches, mouse shit in the peppercorns, unidentified thickening agents in the mushroom soup, a rat called Basil in the fridge unit &amp; people who’ve been shouted at for so long they pass the abuse on down the line." Musician Barton Hartshorn takes on the Melbourne catering scene armed with blunt knives, a saucepan, a guitar &amp; the increasing realisation that he's not where he should be.