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Subject:
From:
Brian Styles <[log in to unmask]>
Reply To:
Brian Styles <[log in to unmask]>
Date:
Mon, 6 Jan 1997 08:51:33 GMT
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Carlo's wonderful catorgue piece defines a woefully inadequate
instrument. I understand that he loves cats as much as mechanical
action, but seven notes simply won't do.
 
Allow me to identify the "prepared-for" additional keys to fill in a
complete chromatic octave. Those of you who can read music will notice
some duplication of ranks. This is to allow for the natural tendencies
of some of these pets to squabble so violently as to leave them
speechless for fear of Benjamin's legendary admonishments.
 
-----
 
First, there's "Stevie", a tiny runt of a pussy, with a very plain and
boring coat, a distant, supercilious look, thin metal-rimmed specs, a thin
metal-rimmed smile, all sexual apparatus long gone and forgotten. His
great passion is the pursuit of maximum, even over-precious purity of
tone, to the exclusion of character or volume in the caterwauling
department. Refuses to countenance mixed or female catorgue ensembles.
If he ever _was_ a kitten, he has long-since lost the urge for
playfulness. Always popular with the public, especially around the
"festive" season.
 
Next "Goldie", an old mountain cat with a marmalade-coloured coat,
rather manky from numerous dog-fights. Though superficially
domesticated, this creature reverts to her wild nature at the mere drop
of a paw from some of her more urbane neighbours. Her most famous moment
came, many years ago, in a cat show, when she was commended as "good
to excellent", by the judges. Well beyond her span of nine lives, she
continues to wail away, generally off-key. Intonation can be unreliable;
numerous comments in the tuners' book concerning her tendency to cipher
on and on and on...
 
Then there's "Henry" - a dandy of a tom, sporting a bow-tie, mates with
anything which moves (and reputedly with things which don't), always more
to say than his competitors, one of a long line of his kind, but
suspected of an excess of in-breeding, inclined to froth at the mouth.
He is generally regarded as a liability amongst purist catorgue fanciers.
This old campaigner is noted for the decibel output of his vocal
apparatus, which can be heard above an entire en chamade catorgue
division. Frequently assigned to the nave division, but suspected
of not entirely being a fool. Unfortunately, his breed no longer produces
the money-making litters which it once did.
 
And let's not forget "Robbie", an accountant in wolf's clothing, disguised
as a cat, always in for a fight, willing to hiss and spit at any other cat
of any gender, no matter where in the pecking order. A notable fighting
breed, he has a tendency to ruffle the fur of felines of nervous
disposition. His misfortune is to pick on prey who refuse to fight by
any approved rules. Given to long periods of absence from the group,
perhaps courting...? Musically, he is more closely aligned with Stevie
than Timmie, he has never succeeded in being in tune with Goldie.
 
Also, "Benjamin", the peacemeaker, a supremely-groomed puss in a
sombre grey suit, always the first to intervene and display placid
reason in the midst of a fight, but accused of being a spoil-sport by
Robbie, who would prefer to fight to the death and devour his opponents.
How he survives, amidst such savage cat-fights and retains all of his
composure is a source of eternal frustration to the combatants. He is
the pitch pipe of the instrument - in the picture, his tail conceals
magic action whereby, on detecting serious dischord in any of his
colleagues, he is able to operate a ventil, cutting off their wind.
This device is rarely exercised, the last occasion being for the late
unlamented Randy, who went completely mad, threatening to spoil the
whole chorus. More often, he keeps the peace by throwing a bucket of
water over the combatants, but, being the gentleman that he is, he
uses warmed water.
 
Now, we come to a loathsome member of the feline species - "Tommo". Not
recommended for family entertainment. As a solo voice he is rarely to
be heard; he is slow of speech, with a penchant for chiming in, late,
in imitation of his favourite female. Tuning stability is a problem for
him and, to avoid pulling, he should be planted on the chest, facing
the opposite way from the others. In fact, audiences have observed
that his inclusion serves no harmonious purpose at all.
 
Then there's "Whisker", another male sycophant, hailing from a cattery in
the East End of London. This fashionable breed is accused by some of
offering rather bland tonal qualities. Also, his joints are arthritic, so
there is a certain inertia, rendering him not as prompt of speech as
Tomaso-Carloni or Robbie, with their electric implants. He has one
unfortunate tendency - his inclination, against the flow of reason, to
support lost causes, notably the malodorous Randy. Some ascribe this
irrational courting behaviour to the huge stud fees which the breed
seems to attract.
 
Finally, there's "Mog-o". This elegant puss (all of 25% thoroughbred),
sports a silver-grey coat which is the envy of Benjamin. She is more
at home in the purring 32' register than the screeching upperwork of
her companions. Although well acquainted with the wild Horatio
Hottentot, the erratic Brian-o and the pampered Tomaso-Carloni, she
has been known to bite the latter, causing him to lose control of his
studied benign somnulence and to descend to the level of a hissing
alley-cat. Audiences have noticed a certain affinity for Brian-o';
there's even a rumour that she might be his familiar.
 
 
 
-Brian Styles

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