Hotel SplendidoEnzyme writes, "what about awful hotels, B&Bs, or friends' houses where you've had no choice but to stay the night?"
What, the place in Oxford that had the mattresses encased in plastic (crinkly noises all night), the place in Blackpool where the night manager would drum to the music on his ipod on the corridor walls as he did his rounds, or the place in Lancaster where the two single beds(!) collapsed through metal fatigue?
Add your crappy hotel experiences to our list.
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chthonic, Thu 17 Jan 2008, 16:05)
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This simply will not do!Well I never, London. The capital city of our fair and glorious isle. You would think that in this metropolis of acclaimed culture and prosperity, some sort of standards should be maintained. Sadly, this was not the case during my stay in a, frankly, second-rate establishment.
I should have realised by the name. Any hotel named after a down-market savoury biscuit must surely be a vestige of vice and indecency. The next sign of shoddy approach was the doorman. The guttersnipe was filthily unshaven and his grubby gloves left smears on the door handle of my car, which he made no attempt to polish away.
The young harlet whom dealt with the administration of my arrival was competent, if a little blase. Judging by the amount of paint applied to her face, it would seem that her main form of income was earned elsewhere. Gyrating semi-clad in some seedy cavern I don't wonder.
As for the oyk that manhandled my fine luggage, he had the audacity to thrust his grimy paw at me like some starving Ugandan bush-child. Reaching great annoyance by this stage, I spat in his palm and slapped his face for good measure.
To say the suite was substandard would be to insult the term, understatement. Upon deciding to compose a letter of complaint, I found that they expected me to use a writing implement made of plastic with a ball meachanism. That simply was the final straw. I could stand this place no longer!
I realised that physical retribution would be the only form of communication suitable to the situation. I therefore, pissed on the beds, shit on the television set (setting some aside to display my dissatisfaction with the inferior china tea set). Fittingly I wiped my recum with their low grade linens.
To ensure that they didn't mistake my message of contempt, I masturbated more furiously than a Guatamalan monkey, splashing the results over the 'customer satisfaction survey'. With that, I buttoned my duffelcoat, plugged the washbasin and bath, turned the taps to full (a whole twenty seconds until the water ran hot mind-you!) and fled this third circle of hell with my virtue barely intact.
(, Mon 21 Jan 2008, 14:30, 1 reply)
"I spat in his palm and slapped his face"Gave me a chuckle.
(, Mon 21 Jan 2008, 14:54, closed)
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