Worst Hotel in the World

There was a hotel in Chirundu in Zimbabwe, had a look on google and it’s gone.
Back in the day it was a dump but they had a swimming pool . Where they had the warning sign.

”Beware, Elephants will come up to the pool to drink, the management takes no responsability for any Elephant induced injuries “
 
When I first arrived in Phnom Penh I followed the advice of the Lonely Planet:

“When travelling around the city it’s best to always use the same mototaxi as he will actually know where your hotel is”.

While this is true it’s still pretty dodgy advice.*

In those days the restaurant district was on the river bank, about 2 km from the hotel. On returning to the hotel on the 3rd or 4th night, my moto driver thought he saw a business opportunity:

“So, Mr Bob, you want girl tonight?”

“Er no thanks...”

Without missing a beat he said:

“Oh, so you want boy?”

He was a bit surprised when I turned down this offer too. I’m just glad that the ride ended before he could start going down the list of farmyard animals.

I later learned that in that part of the world, it was considered SOP for a local man who found himself away from home to immediately avail himself of the local amenities**.

* it’s dodgy advice for many reasons. These days the mototaxi has been replace by the Tuktuk, a veritable scourge on the surface of the earth. All Tuktuk drivers are waiting for the big score from a foreigner and since a - now deceased - British artist built one of them a ******* house (true dit that), a dollar tip is now met with a degree of surly derision previously only ever achieved by a Venetian waiter.

** indeed it’s not uncommon for hotel concierges in that part of the world to send a girl up to the room ‘on spec’ just in case. There was a bar near the Intercontinental where a pool of girls were maintained for this very purpose. Like a minicab office.
Asking the duty manager, “Can I have an extra pillow
“also works if you want some night time company , or so I have been told.
 
Wait! I think I’ve just recovered a repressed memory… :oops:

*wibbly wobbly effect*

Many years ago, driving south to civilisation with my girlfriend of the time – she was a lot younger than me; in her late teens (although she looked deceptively innocent). It was evening, and I decided to break the journey; coming off the motorway at the next exit.

On the road into town we spot a B&B, or similar, with vacancies. That’ll do. We’re greeted with what seems for some reason like hostility from the owner(?) as she looks up and down my magnificent bronzed countenance (recently back from the WSBA), and past my slightly nervous girlfriend to my flash car.

I’m asked how long I want, and naively assume she means days (“Just tonight, please”). We’re shown to our ‘room’ which looks like one of a couple of converted garages behind the house itself, and instructed to head back to the front-door to pay up.

The accommodation appears to have been built and furnished in the early Seventies and not touched since – orange and brown the dominant colours. There’s a massive mirror on the wall opposite the (saggy) double-bed, which is a bit odd, but...

I’m exhausted, so hand the GF a wedge of notes to settle-up. She comes back looking a bit confused. Apparently the owner had kept asking her if she was alright, and if there was anything she could do for her.

After making good use of the mirror we grab some sleep, and decide to head-off first thing. With a load of newly acquired flea-bites as it happens.






...And that’s how, in 2001, I came to have shagged a teenager in a dodgy hotel in Rotherham, Your Honour!
 

Joshua Slocum

LE
Book Reviewer
Britannia Portland St Manchester? I dont mind it. Me and my step son stay there. One abiding memory is a very tall transvestite with unfeasibly long eyelashes and shoes splayed out on the staircase having his photo taken.
you should have stopped and said hallo !!
 

Issi

War Hero
I'd just gone self employed and was watching the pennies. Was sent to Glasgow for a week to help out.
I found a little hotel in Pollockshields, £21 for bed and breakfast. Tidy!

Got myself squared away and noticed that the door had three big locks on it. I didn't think much about that at the time.
Breakfast arrived at my door at 0730. It was a small paper bag that contained a variety pack box of cornflakes, a half pint of milk and two Bourbon biscuits. I've had a lot worse.
My nights were often punctuated by shouts and occasional screams, but I'd never been to Glasgow before and so thought that it might be normal behaviour.

On night 3, I popped out for a pint and got chatting to a local.

'Hoots mon, where aboots are you staying?'

'Just around the corner, in so and so hotel' I replied.

'Crivens! Don't be staying there, ''tis full of the druggies and jakies, that Glasgae council haven't found homes for yet'
 
German review of the Norbreck:

Das Frühstücksbüffet erinnert ans Militär - man sucht sich zuerst einen Tisch, dann stellt man sich an während alle drängeln und sich über den kalten Speck und die Würstchen hermachen. Das Zimmer, das ich bekam, hatte zwar neue Möbel, war aber trotzdem altmodisch und dreckig. Freuen Sie sich nicht zu sehr auf den alten Whirlpool, der angepriesen wird; ehrlich gesagt kann man mehr Blasen kreieren wenn man die kalten weißen Bohnen in Tomatensoße (Baked Beans) beim Frühstück isst.
 

maguire

LE
Book Reviewer
I've a vague recollection that the Manchester one is known for swingers parties. Which might explain the state of the mattresses and carpets.
It's definitely known for all the hookers that hang round the side streets surrounding it.
 
Britannia Portland St Manchester? I dont mind it. Me and my step son stay there. One abiding memory is a very tall transvestite with unfeasibly long eyelashes and shoes splayed out on the staircase having his photo taken.
How... lovely? :puker:
 
When we go down to our house in the Charente, we usually break the journey in Rennes, which is almost exactly halfway from Dieppe. We usually stay in the Hotel-BB at Cessone (east of the city) but, coming back on one occasion, I decided to stop at the one in Chantepie on the south edge for no better reason than it was closer to the ringroad for a quick getaway the following morning. I should have been warned by the (for want of a better word) ethnics hanging about on the outside staircase but we settled down in the room until there was a screaming from across the corridor. Despite madame mnairbs pleading, I got dressed and went out to see what was going on. Cue receptionist and two strapping Gendarmes breaking into one of the rooms where a bloke was beating sh1t out of his girlfriend. Vowed never to stay there again.

A couple of years later, usual hotel fully booked so went to Chantepie again. SWMBO has lymphodaema from having breast cancer years ago, which makes her susceptible to insect bites. Got bitten on the way down, arm starts swelling up. 2am in the hotel, she's fretting about her arm so I get out of bed onto a floor with about an inch of water sloshing around. What the eff? I spilt my glass of water she says. Wide awake now, I realise that with the amount of water flooding the room, she must have emptied the contents of a water bowser on the floor, let alone a glassful. Tracked it down to the toilet cistern leaking (badly). Reception closed, only a contact phone - called the manager out. 3am he rolls up 'strange, it's never done that before' he said, wading ankle deep in water. Madame mnairb by now is, shall we say, extremely distressed, with her arm swelled to twice it's size, so I asked the manager where the nearest A&E was - 'Junction 16 on the ringroad', trogs out there following the Urgences signs to a hospital in almost complete darkness. Spoke to security and found it was A&E for maternity and paediatrics - normal A&E the other side of the city. Got her in there amongst the battered and bruised clientele and they kept her in for a couple of days. Vowed (again) never to stay there again, but at least the manager was decent, refunded my money and gave me a voucher for a free night at another Hotel-BB.

One of the posts was about almost being electricuted? Wiring in the rooms in the Silk Queen Grand Hotel in Hanoi:
DSCN2925.JPG

Went on to Hailong Bay for a few days, staying at the same hotel on return and demanded a different room - the wiring was exactly the same!

The taxi drivers throughout the far east seem to have this idea that you want a jump as soon as you land. Flew into KL a number of years ago having taken full advantage of Malaysian Airlines very generous Business Class service and all I wanted to do was shower and pour myself into bed. On the short drive from the airport I was offered the full range of services, fortunately getting to the hotel before he could move on to the 4 legged kind.
 
Travelodge Amesbury, near Stonehenge. Utter facking shytehole. After driving for about 14 hours from North East Germany with two kids in the back, one of which was a year old and screamed nearly all the way. We got there about midnight, to be greeted by an utterly moronic night manager who was outside chainsmoking trying to catch wasps nesting in the roof.
The Family room was filthy, and the pull out bed mattress had been fxxked a few times and at least one jizzy shyt stain on it, I put every piece of bed linen out of our car and a sleeping bag on it for our eldest to kip on it. The shower was knackered, you got either skin peeling scolding hot, no water or freezing cold. I had to hand my now exhausted and in tears missus a cut down water bottle full of warm water from the sink so she could wash her hair. I reported this and said moron assured us he would task a plumber to fix it. Next morning at reception was a sign which stated “We are aware of the problem with the water and have reported this to our engineers”, three days it was there. Only food option was an attached greasy grotty Little Thief.
I borrowed an ironing board from reception on the first night, after one of my mates offered to lend us is house till our quarter got sorted, I went to hand it back in. The deaf as feck senile old bitch on the reception desk was attempting to type, and ignoring me so after waiting 25 minutes of me saying “hello! Hello! Can I return this please? I just want to return this! It will take seconds! HELLO!!” Nothing, so I javelined the ironing board across the reception desk across the room “ Fxck you and your facking wa nk er hotel you witless cxxt!” and walked out. Utter fecking scum
 
The Britannia on Portland Street in Manchester? I stayed there for one night as well. It was better than Old Mother Mac's, if only on the grounds I didn't share the room with a rat. Well, not that I was aware of anyway. Surly staff, grubby room and a decidedly iffy breakfast.

Personally I enjoyed staying at the Motel One on London Road, opposite Piccadilly Station. Part of a Hun chain I think. Standard hotel room, friendly staff, decent internet, tele in the room that worked, tea/coffee facility in the room and a nice buffet breakfast. The office I worked at was the other side of the station, so I never had to go more than 100m away from the station in any direction and thus avoided most of the pondlife that infests the city centre.
Hotel Motel One is a pretty good company. The one in Manchester is excellent quality. I've managed to use them a few times for personal trips. Love them. Pretty much my go to hotels if there's one in town and the Hilton is too pricey or unavailable.
 

diverman

LE
Book Reviewer
Britania is advertisng for customers on TV at the moment. I take it they haven't been looking at Tripadvisor reviews.
 
Union Jack back in the early 80ies, Army beds and blankets. Sharing the bathrooms with everyone else on the same floor . Going for breakfast just like in the cookhouse, exactly the same fried egg, sausage etc. Except you had to “pay”. Something like 4.50 , I was in shock. Went there in 2007 ish. Paid for a double room with shower. Much better.
 

PFGEN

GCM
Stayed in a hotel in Pilsen just after the wall came down. If memory serves it was Hotel Central and pretty much the only hotel in town. I believe it has now been significantly revamped however in those days when you stepped into the lift (space for two only) and pushed the button the walls departed at different intervals and a few seconds before the floor decided to try and catch up. There wasn't a right angle to be found. The hotel had one redeeming feature in that it was the only place in town where we could get a beer.
 

Distilled

Swinger
Travelodge Amesbury, near Stonehenge. Utter facking shytehole. After driving for about 14 hours from North East Germany with two kids in the back, one of which was a year old and screamed nearly all the way. We got there about midnight, to be greeted by an utterly moronic night manager who was outside chainsmoking trying to catch wasps nesting in the roof.
The Family room was filthy, and the pull out bed mattress had been fxxked a few times and at least one jizzy shyt stain on it, I put every piece of bed linen out of our car and a sleeping bag on it for our eldest to kip on it. The shower was knackered, you got either skin peeling scolding hot, no water or freezing cold. I had to hand my now exhausted and in tears missus a cut down water bottle full of warm water from the sink so she could wash her hair. I reported this and said moron assured us he would task a plumber to fix it. Next morning at reception was a sign which stated “We are aware of the problem with the water and have reported this to our engineers”, three days it was there. Only food option was an attached greasy grotty Little Thief.
I borrowed an ironing board from reception on the first night, after one of my mates offered to lend us is house till our quarter got sorted, I went to hand it back in. The deaf as feck senile old bitch on the reception desk was attempting to type, and ignoring me so after waiting 25 minutes of me saying “hello! Hello! Can I return this please? I just want to return this! It will take seconds! HELLO!!” Nothing, so I javelined the ironing board across the reception desk across the room “ Fxck you and your facking wa nk er hotel you witless cxxt!” and walked out. Utter fecking scum
Ah yes, the place one of my colleagues described as "the place where dreams and hookers goe to die."
 
Union Jack back in the early 80ies, Army beds and blankets. Sharing the bathrooms with everyone else on the same floor . Going for breakfast just like in the cookhouse, exactly the same fried egg, sausage etc. Except you had to “pay”. Something like 4.50 , I was in shock. Went there in 2007 ish. Paid for a double room with shower. Much better.
UJ in the early 70s was a little more basic; you had to place your boots under the bedends otherwise they'd be gone in the morning. Aye, they were the days.

Around much of Africa, though, in the villages there would be good places to stay, and usually they were the best that could be offered under the circumstances; the laws of economics would decide that. Geological exploration people were frequently the best people to judge which were the best, and usually they got it right; any wattle and daub place with reasonably clean water, the best mosquito nets, the cleanest foam mattresses and the best coffee in the morning would win the 'long'-term contract, and little else mattered, apart from a good curry, nyama choma or chicken in the late evenings, plus ice-cold Budweiser. Any problems would be instantly attended to; there's money involved. I stayed in some of these places around the Shinyanga region of Tanzania during the exploration phases and they were genuine havens. Friendly, too; never a problem.

Easyjet at Heathrow. Fck me. Regression or what.
 
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Mirrambeena in Darwin. Owned by the local aborigine tribe but none of them work there, it's all honkies. The abos roll up every morning around ten when the bar opens and spend the day getting shitfaced before strolling round the place looking for rooms to break into to nick stuff. Fuckers got my flight bag and apparently it's quite a common problem, but no one talks about it and the staff appear terrified when questioned. Probably lose their jobs for dobbing in the bosses.
Not surprised really. Anyone reports it, it's instantly "RACISM!!!!"

One of the blokes I work with used to work for a large automotive software company in Aus. He had the job of sending sales reps around the country. He sent one young lady up Darwin way one time including a couple of nights stay at one of the local hotels, only to get a panicky call from the manager of the car dealership she was visting. He said to my former colleague "What the hell are you doing putting her up at <some shithole hotel I can't remember>, do you want her to get raped?". Apparently any women over that way get fought over between the local black fellas and the local drugged up white folks.

The dealership manager put her up at his place for the duration of her stay.
 
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Yup. It was my own fault. In SA or Africa I'd have made sure any valuables were on me, logbook and passport hidden and headset put somewhere safe. I figured being Oz you wouldn't have the *ahem* local issues, so just left my flight bag with all my shit in it under the desk when I went for dinner.
 

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