I once, in a moment of cheapskated madness, booked a room in a pub as a stopover. How bad can it be, I thought? This is before booking sites and I didn't really read reviews anyway.
Well, it was a cheap looking pub in the middle of a dodgy estate, everything was falling to bits and the rooms were above the pub. It was karaoke night so I went to sleep listening to someone murdering Whitney Houston.
3am rolls around, and the crackle of a police radio outside the room comes to life, and then I lie in bed hearing what appears to be a mini dawn raid.
This was the first night of my honeymoon and possibly a reflection of the marriage that followed 
