Mercure Newport – Accor, Are You Feeling Okay?

Gym kit on, Guinness loaded — peak athlete mode.

The Mercure Newport describes itself as a sleek, four-star sanctuary in the beating heart of the city. Normally, that means “next to a Greggs, carpet that smells of despair, and scrambled eggs resembling building insulation.” But here’s the twist: every single word was true. Honestly, I thought I’d accidentally wandered into the wrong hotel. It was so good that I briefly considered phoning Accor HQ to report an administrative error.

🚪 Check-In – The Twilight Zone

Reception didn’t just grunt in my direction. They didn’t just throw me a key card like a frisbee at a bored dog. They remembered me from a year ago. Remembered. A Mercure, with an actual memory. I half expected Rod Serling to walk out of the lobby and narrate the scene. Before I could even flash my Accor card like a cheap magician, I was upgraded to the top-floor suite. No begging, no blood sacrifice, no PowerPoint presentation. Just… upgraded. It was so efficient I nearly demanded a urine test to make sure I hadn’t hallucinated it.

Upgraded without begging — I demand a drugs test.

🛏️ The Suite – A Kingdom for One

This wasn’t a hotel room. This was a sovereign state. A living room with a 50-inch TV, a bedroom with a super king bed big enough to host a small music festival, and décor so black and moody it made Batman look like Barbie. I performed the classic white-glove test — full CSI crawl across the carpet, peering under furniture like a raccoon with OCD — and found nothing. Spotless. Fresh. So clean I worried I’d accidentally wandered into the Accor showroom prototype they use for marketing photos.

🛁 Bathroom – Supervillain Chic

Two sinks. Because apparently, I’m supposed to wash my hands in stereo. A shower large enough to hold the Welsh rugby squad, tiled in such brooding noir style that I emerged expecting to fight crime. The toiletries were “Elemental Herbology,” which sounds less like shampoo and more like a Marvel superpower. After a good scrub I was convinced I could control the weather.

🎁 The Dracula Welcome Pack

On the desk: a handwritten note and two bottles of red wine. Nothing says “welcome” quite like being seduced by a mysterious stranger with good handwriting. The minibar? Not £7 Pringles or mystery nuts, but tins — yes, tins — of water and Pepsi. One diet, one normal. Yin and yang. Balance in a fridge. It was so reasonable it unnerved me.

Handwritten note and two bottles of red — Dracula runs a tight hotel.

🛗 The Lift – My New Religion

Forget the room, forget the wine — the Otis Gen2 lift was the true highlight. Smooth, silent, and so fast I nearly left my internal organs in the lobby. It didn’t rattle, didn’t wheeze, didn’t make the usual “final destination” noises. Honestly, if Elon Musk had any sense he’d scrap the rockets and just strap us all into one of these.

Otis Gen2: faster than my will to live.

🍺 Bar & Terrace – Guinness Without Tears

The bar poured Guinness correctly. In the correct glass. I repeat: Guinness. In. The. Correct. Glass. For those unaware, see The Great Guinness Glass Audit for the trauma this avoids. Add in a sunny terrace, and suddenly I wasn’t in Newport anymore — I was in a Mediterranean daydream, minus the sangria and dodgy accordion buskers.

Refuelled the only way that counts.

🏋️ Gym – Definitely Used, Honest

Yes, there’s a gym. And yes, I definitely went. I absolutely did not just walk past it, glance in, and mutter “looks sweaty” before heading straight to the bar. I ran marathons, I bench-pressed Buicks, I smashed personal bests. And if you don’t believe me, check the CCTV footage (please don’t check the CCTV footage).

Just bench-pressed a Buick. Honest.

📶 Wi-Fi – Faster Than My Will to Complain

The Wi-Fi wasn’t just good. It was obscenely fast. 80 up, 90 down. Faster than most divorces, quicker than England crashing out of a World Cup, smoother than a politician’s expenses claim. I could’ve streamed the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy on three devices while downloading the Ark of the Covenant, and it still wouldn’t have lagged.

🌙 Final Thoughts – The Simulation is Broken

Here’s the problem: everything was too good. No broken kettles, no haunted plumbing, no bins of mystery, no tragic breakfast buffet. The staff were polite, the suite was immaculate, the Guinness was in the right glass, the Wi-Fi made me feel like I was living in 2099. It was so flawless that my sarcasm circuits overloaded. I genuinely thought I’d fallen into a simulation designed by Accor to fool travel bloggers. In the end, I did the only logical thing: went to bed early, just in case I woke up and found myself back in an ibis Budget.

⭐ Final Nigel Rating: 5 stars, 1 Guinness (correct glass), and a deep existential crisis. Curious how this hotel stacks up against the rest?

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