LYING in my single bed in a room resembling a prison cell, listening to next door’s TV blaring through the paper-thin walls, I wondered if my night could get any worse.
Then my gaze drifted towards the damp ceiling corner above me.
Sun reporter Sophie Warburton spent a night at the UK’s worst-rated hotel Zenpix
Dried vomit greets guests on the steps up to the hotel Zenpix
The hotel has over two thousand ‘terrible’ reviews Zenpix
Inside Sophie’s room, an open socket hung precariously from the wall Zenpix
Her filthy bedroom windows gave a glimpse of the city outside Zenpix
A silverfish scuttled up the wall. I squealed and buried my head in the rock-hard pillow.
With over two thousand “terrible” reviews on TripAdvisor, the Britannia Hotel Manchester has quite the reputation.
Guests have dubbed the branch of the chain, on the northern city’s Portland Street, a “dump”, a “dungeon” and a “disgrace” – while some have gone so far as to brand it the “worst hotel ever”.
But could it really be as bad as people describe?
I arrived to check-in at the hotel at 3:30pm. The vast, Grade II listed building is impossible to miss, and from the outside its impressive central staircase and gigantic, glitzy chandelier, visible through the double doors, makes it appear rather grand.
If I had to compare my first impressions to a movie scene, it would be when Kevin McCallister enters The Plaza Hotel in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York – except this turns out to be the Temu version.
Once inside the lobby is desolate, but for a surly receptionist behind a plastic screen, who informs me no payment has been made for my room.
Confused I assure her it has, but she rejects my claim and thrusts the card machine at me, ready to charge me the £57.17 bill.
Not wanting to make a fuss, I gulp and tap my card, and she hands me various papers and a key card.
I take one look at the lift that bears a striking resemblance to the one in Disneyland’s Tower of Terror and resign myself to the stairs.
On the way to her bedroom, Sophie spotted a discarded razor on the carpet Zenpix
Two empty pint glasses were abandoned on one of the corridors Zenpix
Sophie’s bedroom was advertised as a single room without windows Zenpix
The wallpaper was damp and cracked Zenpix
A silverfish was spotted scuttling past Sophie’s bed Zenpix
As I ascend five flights to room 596, I notice the decor becoming increasingly drab. The landing, though spacious, is largely barren, save for a few caged plants.
The lighting has also shifted from warm yellow chandeliers to fluorescent white strips.
The hotel’s carpets, resembling something out of Wetherspoons, are ugly, outdated and possess an uncanny ability to induce a feeling of intoxication.
En route to my room I spot a discarded disposable razor, a packet of sugar and a mysterious small white pill.
My room provides little respite – it’s dark, depressing and cave-like, while the cracked wallpaper looks as if it could be peeled off in one fell swoop.
I go to switch on the bedroom lights, but to no avail.
The hotel’s carpets, resembling something out of Wetherspoons, are ugly, outdated and possess an uncanny ability to induce a feeling of intoxication
Sophie Warburton
There’s very little natural light; while the exterior of the building boasts several large circular windows, only the two bottom panes were reserved for my room.
The windows open a few inches, which previous guests have clearly utilised for smoking a cheeky cigarette given the build-up of ash and butts mounting on the wide outer ledge.
I pull back the bed covers and a suspicious, small black hair captures my attention.
Doing my best Four in a Bed impression, I lift the mattress and spot a pack of tissues underneath. I move the bed out and see a bunch of spiky, naked wires next to a loose plug.
I decide against plugging in my phone charger and hastily head out for dinner.
‘Renowned’ among locals
Behind the grubby radiator the wallpaper was peeling off Zenpix
Behind my bed Sophie found naked wires sticking out of the wall Zenpix
She lifted the mattress to find an old packet of tissues Zenpix
The window opened a small amount onto a wide ledge Zenpix
Cigarette butts and ash left discarded on the window ledge Zenpix
Each floor contained the sort of bins you see on street corners – one had accumulated a pile of extra rubbish next to it, beside the fire extinguisher Zenpix
Outside the hotel Sophie saw a police car and a gang of youths Zenpix
Hygiene and maintenance in Britannia Hotels has been the focus of its criticism since around 2010, with Which? magazine ranking it the worst chain in the UK for 11 years running due to poor standards of cleanliness, service and value for money.
Despite this place being in dire need of a revamp, its owner, millionaire hotel tycoon Alex Langsam, is raking it in.
His personal worth was valued at £401million this year by The Sunday Times.
The latest figures for the fiscal year ending March 30, 2024, show Britannia Hotels reported a pre-tax profit of £31.3million – a decrease from £39.3m reported in the previous year.
Considering this downturn in profitability, I wonder if there’ll be any efforts to zhuzh the place up.
I reluctantly head back from dinner around 9pm after meeting a friend, who asked me why on earth I was staying at the Britannia, claiming its renowned among Mancunians.
As she drops me off outside, where a police car has pulled up, blue lights flashing, while youths dressed in black with bikes linger in the shadows, I ask myself the same question.
Watery eggs and tinned tomatoes
I wake up the following morning feeling distinctly sleep-deprived and take a shower. The hotel offers an all-in-one hair and body wash in a refillable soap dispenser.
At 7:30am our photographer Paul arrives to join me for breakfast. Turns out he’s breezed past security, no questions asked.
His primary obstacle, however, was avoiding the vomit on the building’s stairs.
We take the lift down for breakfast, and Paul’s almost decapitated.
It appears the lift’s sensors are a tad lax and failed to detect Paul was still entering, resulting in the doors clamping shut on his face.
The ceiling of the lift is also at a suspiciously jaunty angle.
ZenpixThe lift in the hotel had a jaunty-angled ceiling[/caption]
Jenny’s Restaurant was situated beneath the hotel lobby Zenpix
Breakfast included firm scrambled eggs in a watery trough while the baked beans had grown a layer of skin Zenpix
ZenpixThe assortment of fruit and muffins on offer at breakfast[/caption]
Elements of the staircase were seemingly held together by cable ties Zenpix
Beneath the lobby is Jenny’s Restaurant, serving a “big Britannia Breakfast” every morning from 7.30am to 9am.
Paul and I hover behind a Please Wait To be Seated sign and spot about two other people in the bright fluorescent-lit room.
After a minute or so the breakfast lady scurries over and we pick a table.
Hands down it was the worst Full English I’ve ever eaten. I’ve seen Bushtucker Trials that looked more gourmet.
The scrambled eggs were hard, despite sitting in a watery trough, while the baked beans were brown with an added layer of skin.
The bacon and sausages were dense like play-dough, and the tomatoes were clearly poured straight from a tin.
Hands down it was the worst Full English I’ve ever eaten. I’ve seen Bushtucker Trials that looked more gourmet
Sophie Warburton
I head over to the juice machine and opt for orange. Out comes a tasteless, separated liquid which is vaguely orange in colour.
I get a coffee for good measure, which was also absolutely foul; it tasted like burnt instant granules, with some frothy milk and a sprinkling of cheap chocolate powder.
Curious as to what the guests around me are eating, I spot one tucking into a bowl of hash browns while another nibbles at a sausage sandwich before binning it.
On our way out Paul and I pass two used pint glasses on the staircase, along with a black ladder leading to a trap door in the ceiling with a sign next to it which reads “Fire Exit”.
A staff member spots our curiosity and questions our agenda.
We tell him we’re looking for the fifth floor and he proceeds to open a staff-only door leading to a staircase. “Go up,” he grunts.
We comply, and no sooner had we climbed the stairs, another staff member spots us and hurries out of the restricted area.
At 9:45am it’s finally time to check out.
If I’m being generous, all in all I rate my stay a two out of ten. One point for location, and the other for privacy. But I can’t say I’ll be rushing back.
Britannia Hotels has been approached for comment.
ZenpixInside the hotel Sophie found a black ladder leading to a ‘fire exit’[/caption]
A fuse box was accessible from inside Sophie’s room Zenpix
On the ground floor Sophie found a filthy toilet without a lock Zenpix
Outside the hotel Sophie found lots of graffiti Zenpix Published: [#item_custom_pubDate]
