It is a neat and clean place with a surprisingly large interior belied by the rather diminutive but gleaming white clapboard exterior. It is trimmed with pink shutters, and has lavender wrought-iron all over the place. The inside is furnished with cutsie little soda-shop tables (each painted a soft yellow or powder blue) - every one appointed with tatted doilies, cloying scented candles and African violets. There is dainty bric-a-brac hanging here and there to tease the eye. The apron of the stage is lined with white chiffon flounces and Real Filet lace curtains are hanging at the rear. Just to one side of the stage is a most wonderful scratching post, covered with softened crinoline and trimmed with Picot lace. This is used from time to time by the establishment's namesake (often during performances by traveling folk artists who would, of course, be upstaged by Fifi's offstage antics).

I suppose I'll start things off by trying a bit of white wine in one of those glasses with the periwinkle motif etched into the bottom of the stem. Then perhaps Madam Fifi herself will join me onstage while I sing "With Kitty I'll Go". Who will be next?