Postcard from Liverpool

In the well-established tradition of bizarre British Open lodgings, the Rover is delighted to report that his accommodations in Liverpool this week are the most shocking he’s ever encountered in nine trips to the Open.

The Rover is booked into a massive hotel in center city Liverpool (a stunningly dirty port town that should be renamed Cesspool) called the Adelphi. The once-grand Adelphi is one of the largest and oldest hotels in the city. And it’s quite clear the owners haven’t spent a shilling on upkeep since Bill Shakespeare stayed there.

It’s simply an impossibly shabby old dame. The Rover’s room is large enough for a basketball court, complete with 12-foot ceilings, intricate molding and gaudy candelabra lighting. But every stick of furniture in the room, all of it gloriously unmatched, is marred by a combination of cigarette burns and stains of dubious origin. The “king-sized bed” is two sagging twins shoved together. Better yet, both are fitted with single sheets, completely dispelling the illusion.

Not only are grime, cobwebs and dust omnipresent, the Rover arrived to find the following objects under a high side table: two cigarette butts, an empty pint glass and two soiled cocktail napkins. And after two visits from the maid, they’re still there. Suffice it to say, it’s the kind of room where one never removes his shoes, much less his socks.

Should the Rover fail to correspond later this week, it will undoubtedly be because Jack Nicholson has burst out of a closet and induced a coronary.

— Barker Davis