Brighton's Fawlty Towers

My house having been cleared, I spent my last night in Brighton at the Royal Albion Hotel, which proved to be a real Fawlty Towers.

There was no heating and I had to get someone to bring an electric plug-in heater. The room smelled of stale tobacco. The toilet seat would not stay up. The windows had not been cleaned for years. The situation was by a busy road, which would not have been a problem if double glazing had been installed.

Breakfast was a parody of an English breakfast, with egg made from powder. The museli was disgustingly sweet and there was no plain yogurt available, only the sweetened stuff. Yet people were obviously satisfied. That makes one wonder.

I complained to the owners, Britannia, but the reply did not even amount to an apology.