2/10
The worst stay I’ve ever endured. The hosts were utterly useless—phone unanswered, messages ignored. When they finally bothered to reply, they sent an address that was a bald-faced lie—nowhere near the advertised spot, banished to the far side of Southampton. A scam from the start.
When I arrived, reality hit like a brick: this wasn’t the “private room” promised in the glossy Hotels.com ad. It was a cramped, musty spare bedroom in some old couple’s house, thrown together in a desperate scramble because they’d clearly overbooked. The online photos? Pure fabrication. The place was filthy, stuffed with their tacky personal junk, family photos glaring at me like I was an intruder. The decor? A ghastly purple eyesore, but that’s beside the point—it wasn’t what I booked. Barely cleaned, with grime on surfaces and random crap everywhere. No lock on the door, so I was stuck hearing every creak and cough. Privacy? A cruel joke. It felt like I was squatting in a stranger’s mess.
I paid for a proper guest house, not this fraudulent bait-and-switch. I contacted Hotels.com, demanding a refund because this was outright deception—not even close to what was advertised. The hosts had the audacity to refuse. This wasn’t just a bad stay; it was a disgusting ripoff.
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