Max Tenor, charming scamp and illustrious future star, was having a witty and involved conversation with a group of singers at The Cafe. Suddenly, he realised that he needed to describe a particular song to them as a matter of urgency, but he was not quite sure how he would be able to do this using things like spoken words.
“You know what I’m going to start my recital with?” he asked, making sure to catch everyone’s attention with his booming mouth-horn. It was at this point he realised that he did not know how to refer to the song in question with any sort of convenient, referential shorthand, like a title, so he just started singing it at full voice. “IO TI SEGUII…”
Soon, everyone was indeed aware of just which song he wanted to start his recital with.
“Oh it’s that one,” said a friend. “The one he is singing currently.”
“I wouldn’t have understood what he meant any other way,” said another.
“COME IRIDE DI PACE…”
Max relished the opportunity to explain this programming choice with the full splendour of his beautiful, resonant throat-bugle. Nearby, a table of oboists was so dazzled by the noise they momentarily stopped making reeds and looked over to see what could possibly have been important enough for him to launch into what was quickly becoming a lengthy and involved performance full of dramatic gestures and semi-staged acting.
“I think he is describing the piece he wants to open his recital with,” said one of them. “Quick, someone write that down.”
A group of nearby pianists even had to pause their debate about which Chopin Ballade was the best in order to listen to Max’s voluminous, manly cavern. “What’s he doing?” they asked. “Is that like a mouth concerto?”
Max thought about stopping, because ultimately the entire performance was unnecessary, but he actually didn’t. A passing rival tenor was floored by the incredible majesty of Max’s humble larynx-rocket. “How can I be anything but humbled and impressed?” he asked himself forever.
One of the singers who had until that moment been quietly enjoying her lunch and amicably chatting to her peers, Sally McNally, was not impressed by Max’s shenanigans. “Please stop,” she said. “You are everything the world hates about us.”
“UNA NOVELLA AURORA…”