Last night I saw Miss Pussycat and her puppets enact a sideways homage to the power of art to ossify, and then provide release; or something like that. Fun to watch in a club setting, but what interested me most was the spectators’ response: like a medieval morality play, they whooped the most when retribution was handed down (via a tommygun-toting Santa Claus, but who’s counting?). Comeuppance! The balance of the universe restored . . . Made me think fondly of Barry Unsworth’s great novel of the same name, though all his players were human.