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You step from the noise of central Dublin into a dimly lit 1930s-cabaret tent, all red velvet booths, candlelit tables, rococo…

You step from the noise of central Dublin into a dimly lit 1930s-cabaret tent, all red velvet booths, candlelit tables, rococo mirrors and erotic carvings.

It's a wild hybrid of carousel, circus and grand old East European cafe: a place to be surprised and charmed by. Where are you? You're at the Spiegeltent, on Wolfe Tone Square, Dublin Fringe Festival's classiest and most atmospheric venue - and, until October 11th, also the late-night club for the fringe and its big brother, Dublin Theatre Festival, which starts on Monday.

According to Brett Haylock, the venue's Australian manager, there are just eight of these tents. This one's French; the other seven are Belgian. Did Marlene Dietrich really sing here? "She sang in a number of Spigeltents, so we can assume she sang in this one," he says tactfully. Parts of the tent look far too pristine to date from the 1930s, but the important thing is that the place is fairly potent with atmosphere. They also have the politest - and best-looking - bar staff in Dublin.

The Spiegeltent is hosting a series of one-offs: comedy, cabaret, jazz, folk, trad, classical, discussions and the odd indefinable gig. It seats an intimate 250 for these events, but at about 11 p.m., when it becomes the festivals' club, its capacity goes up to 450. There have been a few teething problems: noise, which has to be controlled for local residents, and the tent's resemblance to a very beautiful ice box. "Even I'm cold," admitted Nik Quaife, the fringe's press officer. Heaters are promised, but go wrapped up until they arrive.

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Kicking off the comedy, on Monday, was David O'Doherty, with songs and some sharp lines that came wrapped up in innocent smiles, like biting into a sandwich to discover a razor blade. "Ah, the Magdalen laundries. That's one they'll never turn into a PlayStation game," he beamed. Tuesday's sell-out was Gavin Friday's autobiographical gig, I Didn't Come Up The Liffey In A Bubble. Guggi, Ali Hewson (sans Bono) and Shane MacGowan were in to support their old friend. Friday gave us vintage vignettes of his life."We had punk rock when we were 12," he hissed mesmerically. "The 12-year-olds today are in big trouble. They need inspiration. It's up to writers, musicians, directors and poets to help them get it together.""And mammies!' came a voice from the floor. "Mammies always have it together," Friday replied, briefly departing from his uber-cool image.

It was avery Irish moment.

The well-attended Critical Voices discussion on Tuesday asked whether we are ready to embrace multiculturalism and interculturalism as a culture audience. Not quite, was the panel's pragmatic consensus. "A different culture is like a toothbrush. You can be glad the other person has one, but you don't necessarily want to use it yourself," said Adekunle Gomez, a founder member of the African Cultural Project, talking about our ambivalent attitude to foreigners who have come to live here.

A small audience provided problems for Anne Gildea and Sue Collins, creators of the esoteric, ebullient Nualas, who gave an uncharacteristically uneasy, uneven show of old songs and newish patter on Wednesday. Surprisingly rattled by the poorish attendance, to which they repeatedly referred, they seemed to make the audience uncomfortable

for turning up. A shame, as this pair have talent by the tentful.

Three bands from last month's hugely successful A Little Mór festival, at Charleville Castle in Co Offaly, also performed that night. Bass-heavy, high-energy rock and rap bands Schroedersound, The Man and the Machine, and Weapons of Mass Destruction must have sounded the business blasting out in a field, but they didn't work in the intimate Spiegeltent. "I can offer a f***- Bollywood song or an Internet-sadist song!" one band member proposed. The cumulative effect was like watching a Rottweiler in a velvet-lined kennel.

But that's what fringe is all about: great, middling, brave, awful and downright weird shows. In the Spiegeltent the festival has both a glorious venue and a gorgeous club. The club, by the way, costs 5, or €2 with a festival ticket from that day.

Rosita Boland

Rosita Boland

Rosita Boland is Senior Features Writer with The Irish Times. She was named NewsBrands Ireland Journalist of the Year for 2018