Nearly all Muddling Up Sound Into Compositions music…

Band                                                                                                                               Albums

A CD Sea                                (Personalized moving to Mars songs)                            1

All Belated Birthday Anthems   (Songs for if you missed someone’s birthday)      4

Bastibus Chumley                            (An old man singing jazz songs)                         1

Cameron “The Glove” Compartment (Personalized celebrity driving songs)          1

Channel Surf                        (Television themed sketch comedy)                                 9

DJ Money Gloves            (Techno music, mostly based on sports rules)                    3

Good Times Fantastic Refreshing Exercise Band        (Work out songs)                 3

Gus Ghouled                            (Rugby league folk songs)                                              1

Relaxativation                           (Aural constipation relief)                                           1

Rofl Harris      (Songs Rolf Harris said he would release after his prison stay)      2**

Russell Crow                  (Personalized songs celebrating people’s pets)                    2

See Ya                               (Songs to get ex-partners to take you back)                        2

Terry Pedestrian & the Crossing (Mostly driving songs for celebrities)                  12

The Blair Cottrell Project (A pop anthem promoting multiculturalism)                   1

The Cheeky Peppermint Somersault Gnomes          (Children’s songs)                     2

The Donkey Voters (Congratulations on becoming the leader of Australia songs)   1

The Port Macquarie Philharmonia                  (Classics remastered)                          1

The Surname Rockers                             (Personalized family party songs)               3

 

** One song (Out of the Dark) mistakenly released under the name Rolf Harris.      All royalties made from this band are donated to an appropriate charity.

 

For just $22, Oli will record a song about anything you like in any genre! Contact Muddling Up Sound Into Compositions on Facebook, Twitter or email Oli at:

at_dot.slash@hotmail.com

(Please provide lyrics, pronunciation of less common names and what you’d like the lyrics to be about!)

 

 

 

 

 

No 35 Restaurant Review

We can’t get to No 35 tonight. Sod it. Well we could but by the time we got home, the house would be under twelve feet of water. As much as I’d love a fine dining outing, I’d better wait until the plumber gets here to sort things out.

You see Winifred’s lump of a brother Christopher came around today to pick up his recording paraphernalia. He’s just called complaining that when he drove home earlier, he “bumped” something as he was driving off my lawn. Apparently something scratched some paint off the lower section of one of the passenger side doors. Good. After I got off the phone, I went out to suss out the situation. The nitwit only went and drove straight over our water meter! He then proceeded to sod off without telling me he’d caused a geyser in my front yard! he left about three hours ago and by looking at the state of the lawn, it’s been blowing sky high ever since. Moron only called because his stupid car was a little scuffed up. Nitwit. Him and that whole side of the family!

I’ve told Winifred that from now on, no member of her family is allowed to drive any closer than two hundred metres from my front door. They can park in the next block and walk the rest of the way from this day forth. The physical activity will do the oafish lot of them all some good. Plus the neighbours won’t wonder at the abominable vehicles they show up in.

Christopher seems to be under the impression that I’m going to be paying for the detailer to touch up the paint on his car! He can get stuffed as far as I’m concerned. In fact, it’ll be me forwarding him the plumber’s bill post haste. And I missed my No 35 booking!

Where is this sodding plumber? It’s not a public holiday!
BC

No 35 Restaurant

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The Auction Rooms Café Review

The fine dining experience I missed out on today was meant to be my first attempt at a breakfast review. But alas, I slept through my alarm. It’s almost time for lunch and I’ve only been up half an hour. I feel as groggy as Rip Van Winkle and it’s all Winifred’s fault.

I ended up drugging myself to sleep at about midnight last night and then I didn’t dose off until the they kicked in. Her chronic flatulence has come back. Well it never really goes away if I’m honest. Let’s just say it’s flared up in recent days. I’d try the ear protectors but she snapped them last month when we had the trouble with the punks over the back fence.

I usually read to drift myself off, but her “lower rumbles” as she calls them mean I can’t concentrate on the book I’ve got in front of me, thus I can’t fall to sleep. I’ve tried to block out the noise with audiobooks but it’s not the same. Firstly, I’m something of a traditionalist. I prefer to follow the story of the pages I’m physically turning. I’ve just practiced reading the physical copy while I listen to the audiobook simultaneously. I’d be able to hold the book and follow the story by reading with my eyes and ears to block out the wife’s flatulence. It doesn’t work.

If you happen to accidentally skip a line or go back and check a word, you get out of sync. There ends up being too much of an echo effect between what you’re looking at and the horrible tinny voice. Not only that, I think if I did that for too long I’d develop one of those awful American accents!

I’ve still got the recording paraphernalia Winifred’s lump of a brother Christopher loaned me the other week to produce my record. Sales aren’t going very well. Anyway, before he comes around and collects it, I’ve decided to
record myself reading the book out loud this afternoon. A home-made audiobook would allow me to drown out the sound of the Wife’s flatulence, keep up with myself as I’d read at the same pace and I’d retain my own accent.

Hang on. If I record myself reading the book, I’ll already know what’s happened when I read it again in bed tonight the second time around. Bugger. Back to the drawing board.
BC

The Auction Rooms Café Review

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The CODA Restaurant Melbourne Review

I actually managed to set foot inside a proper restaurant! This marks the closest I’ve ever come to giving potential patrons a helpful and detailed account of a fine dining experience. Unfortunately I wasn’t in their long enough to make note of the ambience. No mark for the “Setting” section of my appraisal. Or for any other category for that matter. It’s not fair. Just once I’d like to eat a proper meal rather than the filth the wife dishes up. Utter tripe. She doesn’t actually serve up tripe. Just a saying. Anyway. For once, everything was going well. We even avoided having to mind our cretinous nephew, Henry. Fancy having to babysit a fourty three year old man! But I digress. We’d entered the Coda and it was packed! They must be doing something right. I suddenly hear a familiar and horrible high pitched moan: “Twenty seven grains please.” Cupid Richter, the leader of the local choir. You see I’m something of a pianist. Could have made it all the way to the top. Sadly I was born with the wrong family. Not to mention I was a late starter. Completely self taught! I couldn’t have shared a fine dining experience with that fruit loop even if I’d wanted to. Leaving wasn’t an option, I legally had to. By law, I’m not allowed any closer than one hundred metres of the man. If you can call him that. Fruit loop. I’ve gotten a little off topic, but while I’m at it I may as well keep going. I’ll let you make your own mind up. When a person is asked by a waiter whether they’d like any salt, only a psychopath would request a specific amount of grains! Elvis Presley! He’s got a fear of flies too. Turns rabid as soon as one buzzes through the door of the choir hall. Pteronarcophobia. Didn’t know that offhand, had to look it up. Suits him fine. A Pteronarcophobe is exactly what he is. A blow by blow account of our ongoing feud would take over a week to summarize, so I’ll just cut to the chase. Cupid’s the reason I’m not allowed to accompany the choir anymore. Fancy a conductor taking a restraining out on a musician for looking at them too much during rehearsals! He’s a conductor for Presley’s sake! If I’m not allowed to look at him, what’s he doing there? What good am I to the choir playing along from home? Fruit loop. I ended up having old fish fingers for my dinner instead. They tasted of washing up liquid.
BC

The CODA Restaurant

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Red Spice Road Restaurant Review

Bad news. I missed the restaurant booking. Winifred took the sedan out this morning and left me to fend for myself. I was going to get the bus in but the lazy sods are on strike. Oh well. Good news, Winifred’s out of what’s left of my hair for the rest of the evening. I should say we have the little car, but I couldn’t drive it as it’s out of action. Bent front axle. She did it. Sitting in the driving seat for extended periods of time. Elvis Presley!

It was funny waiting out in the cold as I was. Having Norman show up in a car instead of a bus to take me in to town. At first I thought it was strange having the buses go on strike without thinking to let the drivers know. Turns out Norman needed the money and was doing his usual bus run privately in his little Carolla! He pulled up to pick me up but I waved him on. He already had at least six people squished in there with him. Two or three of them looked like real scum of the earth too.

Not only that but I get a bit nervous with Norman behind the wheel. Being a retired driving instructor, I taught him to drive. He’s much better now. I don’t get as many flashback these days. He has the most soporific voice. During most of our lessons, I’d be telling Norman to press this pedal, look at that mirror while he yawned away at me about everything from his school teachers to his love life issues. He didn’t even notice when I’d fall to sleep! Good on Norman for watching the road. Often it wasn’t until we ran out of petrol or I started snoring that he’d pull over and I’d wake up in Geelong or wherever we happened to be. Absolutely no idea if he was a good driver or not. He must have been or we wouldn’t have survived the lessons! It was that and the fact that he didn’t dob me in that I passed him with flying colours.

Well I’ve got about four hours left before she comes back and puts an end to any sort of activity that may be giving me any sort of joy so I best wrap up this review and get on with my little recording project. I caught Winifred at the computer yesterday sitting in this very chair. Reading my blog she was. Rotten old thing complains that none of my reviews actually involve people eating nice food in nice venues. Who’s fault’s that I wonder to myself. For Presley’s sake.

So in case Winifred somehow manages to shanghai my blog and closes it down, I’ve borrowed a microphone and some other recording paraphernalia from her lump of a brother Christopher. I’m not sure if I’ve ever mentioned that he works in advertising. The plan is that if the authorities can’t read what’s been going on under this roof, at least they’ll be able to hear it when the time comes.

Three hours and forty minutes before she gets back now. Time is getting away from me. I’d better make haste!
BC

Red Spice Road Restaurant

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Overall: N/A

Chin Chin Melbourne Restaurant Review

I’d love to be able to say I dined at the Chin Chin tonight, but nobody would be able to hear me. The ruffians over the back fence have their music up so loud I can barely hear myself think as I type this review. Punks. It’s been blaring all day. Every time I tried to ring the Chin Chin to make a booking, I was drowned out by the aural filth being projected over my back fence. I’m not going to call it music. This experience falls under a different category. Music is meant to calm the nerves and soothe the soul. This feels more like playing rugby. It’s painful. I was sure my ears were bleeding earlier on.

Spike Butcher. That’s his name. Pink haired lunatic. I should ask him and his friends which barbershop they go to so I can steer clear of the demented place. What sort of style does he ask for? A short back and sides does me fine. I can imagine the nitwit swaggering in:

“Hey man! Gimme tha’ electrocuted flamingo!”

There’s a woman punk in there sometimes. A bit like our Cindii and her Matthew. One of those on and off relationships. She’s probably left him again. Every time she takes off, Spike has one of these noise marathons. Destiny is her name. Destiny Butcher. No wonder she’s turned out as a woman punk. Her name makes her sound like a sodding serial killer!

Speaking of destiny butchers, my wife is hiding around the house somewhere. We’ve only got one pair of headphones and we’re sharing them. Well, we’re meant to be sharing them. Winifred’s taken them first and she’s had them on for about six hours. Every time I ask her for a go she shrugs her shoulders and leaves the room! Poor old Winifred is getting gradually more and more balmy. Mad old sow.

The next time I see her, I’m going to grab them off her and snap them in half so that we can have an ear each. Makes more sense for us both to go half deaf rather than just me going completely deaf. Seems more fair to me. Either way it’ll all be over soon. I got an authentic antique periscope from Ebay last year.

After a quick scan of Spike’s yard, I’ve found his stereo player thing on the cement slab beside his barbecue in the northwest quadrant of his yard. I have my Vivaldi CD ready for my nephew Henry to make the switch with once he gets here and jumps the fence. My only concern is that the one armed nitwit might scratch my disc with the hook he’s recently had installed.

Hopefully Henry won’t have to go over the top. Not being able to use the phone, I sent the police an emergency email. No word from them so far. I might send Henry a text telling him to bring a rubber glove or whatever the hook equivalent is. Wish us luck.
BC

Chin Chin Melbourne

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Overall: N/A

Milk the Cow Licensed Fromagerie Review

Before I get on reviewing Milk the Cow, I should say I missed reviewing The Meat & Wine Co. because we had a brainy pip squeak stay with us to play in a junior poker tournament. For those that read that review and have been wondering on the result, little Dexter finished third. Good on the little nipper. He’s out of what’s left of my hair now. Back in Sydney.

Unfortunately, after being made to sit through Russell Crowe playing a little blue bird in a movie about Twitter, Winifred got it into her head that we should go to the cinema for a romantic date! I haven’t been in over forty years! So I was made to cancel the Milk The Cow booking. Too bad. I’ve never been to a Fromagerie. And I probably never will. All to accommodate her sudden yearning to become a film buff. If she wants to keep it up after what happened tonight, best of luck to the old sow. I’ll not set another foot inside a cinema for another forty years. Being no spring chicken, it’s safe to say I’ll never go again. Thank Presley for that.

Truth be known, I didn’t even technically set foot in the cinema anyway. Zero gravity cinemas. Fancy trying to watch George Clooney float around in space while you are too. I admit the zero gravity technology is quite impressive, but if you want to watch movies and float around in space, you may as well actually go up and watch them with Richard Branson. Waste of time and money building a simulator if you can do the real thing just as easily.

If they continue opening these zero gravity cinemas, some of the traditional cinematic social norms need a swift overhaul. Firstly. the consumption of foods and beverages. I’ve never been a fan of that sort of behaviour to begin with. Trying to pay attention to a cinematic masterpiece that’s had millions of dollars funnelled into it only to have the experience ruined by some nitwit grazing a mere foot from your ear! Throw zero gravity in to the mix and it’s a complete nightmare. At first I thought all the little popcorn pieces were stars. That was until I splattered right through a soft drink nebula.

I kept losing track of Winifred too. If the old method was being restricted to a seat, surely they should keep it to an allocated three dimensional zone. By all means, swim around and have the time of your life. Just do it in your own airspace. The final and most important rule. Old women in skirts and dresses should be banned from floating above the horizontal. I’d finally gotten used to free floating and was wondering whether Sandra Bullock was going to make it back to Earth. Suddenly Winifred floats in to my field of view like a buffalo in a dress. Upside down with her hooves splayed straight up in the air!
Most off-putting.
BC

Milk the Cow Licensed Fromagerie

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The Meat & Wine Co Review

You’ll never believe it. I missed out on another fine dining opportunity! I was hoodwinked by a little smartarse by the name of Dexter Hewitt. A brat with a name that sounds like a computer company. It’s all Winifred’s fault.

She was out shopping in Church Street last week and saw a notice about the National Junior Poker Championships being on this coming weekend. They were after people to accommodate the obnoxious little card counters. Of course she stuck her hand up. A poker competition for children? Elvis Presley. What’s this world coming to?

They use pixies and rainbows and other such things instead of the four traditional card suits but still. What a message to be sending out to the next generation. They play for sugary treats instead of money but that doesn’t help. If anything it makes it worse! Not only are they still gambling, they’re learning bad dietary habits. Fancy sending your child away like that. Parents must be complete nitwits. Fancy calling your baby Dexter. Isn’t that a serial killer?

What does all this have to do with me missing out on eating at The Meat and Wine? The toddler card shark demands he be played against for practice this morning and Winifred said she’d play him but doesn’t know the rules. So I get offered up to the little brat instead. Not being much of a sweet tooth and fairly certain I was going to win, I didn’t fancy heading out to dinner on a belly full of sugar so another wager was arranged. If I won, I would go out on my own and Winifred would stay home and babysit. If Dexter won, we were to stay in, order pizza and rent out a movie.

He thrashed the pants off me. I’d have won if we weren’t playing with leprechauns and lollipops instead of diamonds and clubs. Threw me right off my game. I was finished off with a high flush. Five unicorns! As a result, I’ve had to eat a few slices of tomato and basil infused cardboard. I’m not even sure whether I got some of the pizza or part of the box it came in! Not to mention having to sit through an hour and a half of some rot with no plot. “Twitter the Movie!” Excruciating. Russell Crowe starred as a little blue bird. Puffed up Nitwit.
BC

The Meat & Wine Co

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The Point Review

This review marks the closest I’ve ever come to actually making it inside the eatery! The experience would have been tainted anyway. Winifred was with me. Not only that, my nitwit of a nephew tagged along. Henry’s recently had a hook installed and the specialist wants him to have as much practice as he can with it in real life situations. Picking up cutlery, tucking in chairs, so on and so forth.

We’d just got out of the car and were walking along Clarendon street. I was salivating at the thought of the nice, juicy steak that was coming my way. The best in Melbourne I’ve heard. Suddenly, Henry shouts out my name and there was this almighty ripping sound!

Turns out Henry thought he’d seen Peter Costello hiding behind a tree. Nitwit. He’d forgotten about the hook and tried to grab my shoulder. The point of it must’ve missed piercing my skin by millimetres. It didn’t miss my shirt. Tore a massive hole right up the length of it. By the time I’d unbuttoned it, the shirt was almost in two pieces.

I’d avoided being eviscerated. Winifred screamed as if I had. Got everyone’s attention and I ended up with a bunch of strangers watching me get down to my singlet. Most surreal. Peter Costello didn’t come out from behind the tree. If it was him. Funny, I recently wondered what become of him. Regardless, the poor shirt went straight in to a nearby bin. In all fairness, Henry should have offered me his shirt and been forced to wander around Albert Park Lake in only his undershirt. In Winter!

When I demanded his shirt, Henry refused. Said the specialist hadn’t elevated him to dressing himself yet. Too difficult. How did he get the shirt on in the first place? I tried to wrestle the shirt off him but Winifred and a few gawkers intervened. Thank Presley nobody was impaled looking back at the melee.

The Point certainly wouldn’t have had me in there half naked so we eventually got to some other place. I won’t name it. Complete slop hole. Mentioning it in this review would only serve to taint The Point’s marvellous reputation. Chinese joint. The sort of place that lets a shirtless old man in to dine. We’ve all been there.

The first thing that happens after we sit down, an irate woman bursts in from off the street with a container of raw meat! She tosses it over the counter, it splatters against the wall and she stomps out. What an interesting concept for an eatery. “We’ll cook whatever you throw at us!” Don’t know what the issue was there. Considering they were about to serve us food, I didn’t want to know!

The three of us survived thankfully. At the completion of our slop, the waitress asked us how everything was. You know what that nitwit Henry said?

“Good thanks. How ’bout your end?”

Nitwit.
BC

The Point

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Rockpool Bar and Grill Melbourne Review

The time I was meant to spend fine dining tonight has come and gone. I’d best get writing while it’s all still fresh in my mind. Winifred’s missing in action. Stuck in a traffic jam with that Evol. Nitwits. I specifically told Winifred to be home no later than four to ensure we were ready in time. I’d actually prefer she didn’t go out at all on fine dining nights, but Evol always comes first.

What’s happened is Evol’s art class numbers have dwindled somewhat so she’s considering a career change. Not to something normal. Heaven forbid the artist actually has a need to contribute something back to the society she leeches off! Live call waiting music performer. Need I go on? Probably not. But I will anyway.

It’s pretty much as it sounds. There’s a multi-millionaire property developing identity up North somewhere. Quite eccentric. The bloke’s always off on some adventure, sailing around in a golden balloon! When he’s home, he’s in the office of his mansion all day taking important calls.

To make a long story short, rather than use call waiting like a normal person, he employs professional musicians to wait around to play live call waiting music when it’s necessary. I don’t know why Winifred got roped in to driving her and her ukulele up there and back. Evol could have flown herself on her broomstick! I’ll have to mention that to Winifred when they return.

Sod this. I’m starving. Hopefully Evol gets the job. She’d have to move up North somewhere. Nitwit. I’m at a loose end so I’ll pretend I made it to the restaurant. At least I’ll get some critiquing practice in.

As soon as I entered the restaurant, I was taken in by the unique combination of chic furniture and mismatched cutlery amongst a quaint and homely setting. I instantly smiled when I caught the scent of coconut and vanilla wafting in from the kitchen to the back.

Sod this. That’s making me even hungrier! Where can those possibly be? It’s been hours. Evol, her little guitar and her jazz cats can all go and get stuffed as far as I’m concerned. I’ll be telling her this as soon as they walk through the door. I need that Evol around the place like an ocean liner needs a gastro outbreak.

Did I tell you about the “Jazz Cats” incident?
BC

Rockpool Bar and Grill Melbourne

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Overall: N/A