ibis Budget Newport – Pot Noodles & PTSD

Budget bliss: pot noodles, panic, and prison-cell chic.

Welcome to ibis Budget Newport – or as I now call it, HMP ibis. Described on the website as a “smart choice economy hotel” for “everyday adventurers,” this place really leans into the adventure part. Ideally located off the M4 and backed by a scenic council estate, this budget bunker offers comfy rooms, sustainable vibes, and a breakfast that comes with feelings. According to the website, the rooms are “bright and welcoming,” which is a bold choice of words for what is essentially a futuristic prison cell with aspirations of becoming a Travelodge.

Let’s dig in...

🚗 Arrival – Parking Made Suspiciously Easy

Free parking? No registration? No barriers? No signs? It was so straightforward I became immediately suspicious. It felt less like hotel parking and more like I’d accidentally driven into a witness protection facility.

Security fence all around – very “zombie apocalypse safe zone” – until morning came and I saw the van next to me had been peeled open like a tin of beans. A crying man stood where his livelihood used to be. Welcome to Newport.

🛎️ Check-In – The Military Experience

Staff were sharp, stern, and gave off big “drill sergeant on day release” energy. I asked about a room upgrade – they laughed. I asked about my free drinks voucher – they looked baffled, like I’d just spoken in Morse code, until I showed them the app. Cue an eye-roll and reluctant nod.

Absolutely zero faff, unless you count the emotional damage.

Check-in or checkmate?

🛗 The Lift – Key Card or Die

Want to use the lift? Better have your key card and strong resolve. You can’t just press the button like a normal person – oh no. You must prove your loyalty. A queue of confused guests stood there, waving cards and pressing buttons like rejected MI6 interns.

I took the stairs, obviously.

🌫️ Corridor – The Budget Shining

Long. Dark. Flickering lights. Narrow doors, packed too close together like shipping containers. It was less “budget hotel” and more “low-budget horror film.” I could almost hear Redrum whispering from down the hall.

"The Shining: Welsh Budget Edition – All rooms come with trauma."

🚪 Room – Minimalism or Human Rights Violation?

Two single beds – not even pretending to be a double. Just awkwardly lying there like estranged siblings at a funeral. Thin mattresses. No headboards. Pillows so flimsy I rolled up my socks to gain spinal support.

"Sleeping alone together: a tragic tale of twin beds and mutual resentment."

There was no wardrobe, no storage, and not even a shelf that didn’t make me feel judged. But there were three full-sized bins in the room – one white, one black, one grey – like some sort of dystopian bin-based personality quiz. No labels. No explanation.

"Sort your waste. Or your life. Either way, we won’t help."

🚿 Shower & Sink – The Exposed Experience

The sink was in the actual bedroom, inches from my pillow. The shower too – inside a cloudy plastic box like a haunted Tupperware. Thankfully I was travelling solo. If I’d brought a mate, we’d now be trauma bonded.

The toilet, separated by the smallest door in Britain, required sideways entry and a lot of optimism. So low to the ground it felt like squatting into the Earth’s core.

🛁 The water? Lava. Hotter than the surface of Mercury. The thermostat was purely decorative.

Nothing screams comfort like washing your face six inches from your socks.

☕ Tea, Coffee & The Kettle Shelf of Doom

Yes, there was a kettle. It was clean. That’s where the joy ended. The sachets of instant coffee and tea were laid out with surgical precision – on a shelf so high I had to stand on my suitcase to reach them. It was the closest thing to art in the entire building.

Tea shelf, or budget Banksy? We’ll never know.

🔌 USB Block – The Glowing Demon

Now this was exciting. A plug extension block with 3 USB ports – definitely not hotel-issued – probably left behind by a cleverer guest. It gleamed with promise… until the lights went off. That bright blue LED lit up the room like a rave for ants.

🍜 The Canteen – Cuisine or Captivity?

Downstairs, I discovered the canteen. And I use that word loosely. White tiled walls, ceilings, floors, tables – like a prison visiting area but with less charm.

Hot food option? Pot Noodles. I didn’t even see forks. I witnessed a man eating his with a key card. Other “snacks” included crisps, chocolate bars, and existential despair. Then – salvation. A fridge filled with beer. I used my drinks voucher to get a bottle of Peroni. No glass. Of course not. I was tempted to ask for a straw. No Guinness in sight — a bleak omission now officially logged in The Great Guinness Glass Audit. Now, the clientele... I couldn’t tell if they were speaking Welsh or just reciting the family tree out loud. Everyone looked either lost, confused, or recently unearthed. A real Newport DNA mystery tour.

"Your table is ready… for your sentencing."

😴 Sleep – USB Glow & Bunkered Beds

Between the LED glare of the USB demon and the beds as soft as marble coasters, sleep was... theoretical. I lay in the darkness, listening to the faint hum of other traumatised guests. Occasionally, a bin lid creaked. Or maybe that was my will to live.

The most valuable item in the room... and my new nightlight from hell.

🌅 Morning – The Van Incident

Bleary-eyed, I left my cell and stumbled into the car park. The van next to mine had been completely ripped open. Tools stolen. One man in tears. It was like waking up on the set of Crimewatch.

I drove away without looking back. You never escape a place like this — not really.

🧐 Final Thoughts – Bleak, Baffling, and Budget With a Capital B

Let’s recap:I checked in under military interrogation.I climbed stairs to a horror-film corridor.I showered next to my bed.I drank Peroni from the bottle while someone ate pot noodle with a key card.And I slept beside a USB light that judged me all night.

And somehow… I lived to tell the tale?

No mint on the pillow.No pillow on the pillow.Just trauma, three bins, and a sobbing tradesman with a ransacked van.

🌟 Rating:

🛏️ out of 5 — One star for the socket block. And emotional resilience. It’s not the worst place I’ve ever stayed. But it’s in the conversation. Curious how this hotel stacks up against the rest?

 👉 See the full Accor-ometer: Beds, Beers & Bad Decisions