Roundabout

She Cat

`SEX CAT,' said girl wearing a bouffant-skirted blue dress with a high neck, stood in the River Room of the Savoy Hotel. About her, like a throng of admirers round a prize exhibit in a pet show, pressed the reporters.

Mr. Foreman, in a blue shirt and a silver tie, stood against a pillar and refused a canapé of chicken liver. Bright diamonds of sweat twinkled from the brow of his receding hairline. 'No,' he said, `I'm not testing her for a sexy role.'

In the white heat of the television lights Miss Stroyberg reclined in an alcove, like a feline favourite basking in the sun. 'I want to play sexy parts, dramatic roles and anything else,' she purred.

announced Mr. Foreman, `am an enter- tainer. Publicity is a necessary part of my business.'

`I,' said Miss Stroyberg, `do not mind posing for pin-up pictures and the photographers seem to enjoy it.'

It was not true, said Carl Foreman, that the girl was without acting experience. She had been train- ing for over a year. If she passed the film test he intended to engage her on a long-term contract. 'Until a few months ago,' said Annette Stroy- berg, 'I had never thought of becoming an actress. I am not going to take on a long-term contract.' Someone asked Mr. Foreman why he didn't engage an actress of proven ability instead of one who might not have any. Mr. Foreman became angry. Plenty of leading actresses had no ability.

Everyone in show business knew that. This girl had sex and a big publicity build-up. He was an entertainer. Over in the middle of the room Miss Stroyberg arranged herself for the photographers.

It Cats

otrrstoe me National Hall, Olympia, was a large, black, shapeless dog, with a sad, woolly face. Wearing a collecting box for the National Canine Defence League, he stood, detached and gauchely superior, like a teenage brother at a toddlers' party. Behind the swinging doors the National Cat Club were holdinzt the champion- ship show. There were Persian cats and Manx cas, ginger cats and tabby cats, stud cats and neuter cats. There were china cats and em- broidered cats, cat watercolours and cat photo- graphs, cat brooches, cat calendars and cat- headed notepaper.

The anti-vivisection people were giving away animal horror pictures and Lyons were selling meat pies. 'Cor, look,' said a schoolboy studying his literature as he munched, 'a dog with two heads !'

'We,' said the jolly plump lady of the Cat Pro- tection Society, `are non-political and non-sec- tarian. And,' she stressed, 'we are not cranks. We want to reduce the numbers of stray cats. Have them spayed—neutered, you know.'

Cats, in the judgment of the advertising copy- writers, are getting just like people. 'The luxury of gracious living is extended to the cat world. . . . Keep your pet feeling lovely with . . . Cat Litter . . . and ensure her popularity, in a new way for cats to live,' read one blurb. 'There's no other litter to make a kitten feel so fresh and charming all day long.'

A champion Persian, its cage bedecked with rosettes and prize cards, sat proud and pompous. lts squashed-melon face was moulded iii a superior, what-a-lovely-pussy-am-I smugness. A would-be fondling hand was quickly withdrawn as a lean, sinuous Burmese cat shot out a vicious claw like the flash of a flick knife.

An official with a white coat, a cigar and two badges grappled with a protesting Siamese and thrust it into a basket.

`Oh look, Daddy,' cried a little girl, grasping her father's hand more tightly, 'I think he wants to get out.'

A silver tabby, sitting wise and speculatively silent as a sphinx, spoilt the effect by chewing its tongue like a silly ruminating cow.

At the close of the show the friendly black dog was looking a little happier as he watched the unceremonious departure of mewing cats packaged like dry goods in their wicker baskets.