It’s “vile”. It’s “filthy”. It has “blood all over the walls and bathroom”. So, naturally, last week I stayed the night there.

The Grosvenor, in Blackpool, hit the headlines on Monday when it was voted the dirtiest hotel in Europe by the users of the website TripAdvisor, who posted those damning reviews.

As this paper’s official squalor correspondent (I had the pleasure of covering last year’s winner, too), I packed my chemical-warfare suit and took the 2.30 from London Euston to find out just how bad it could be.

Would I be “horrified to find pubic hairs on the bed”? Was there “congealed waste around the taps” and “human dirt on the toilet seat”? Or would I find — as the hotel’s endearingly jolly website claimed — that “Your comfort is our priority, as is the cleanliness”?

I sensed something was awry when I opened the door to the lobby, inhaled deeply — and didn’t gag.

With this award, TripAdvisor has set itself up as the gold standard of squalor, and last year’s worthy winner had me retching on the threshold. The Grosvenor hardly smells at all. It’s as if they aren’t trying.

To the rooms. This is more like it. Along the gloomy corridor, about half the battered doors have their numbers scribbled on in biro. Nice touch. After rejecting a minuscule single with a window that won’t close, I’m “upgraded” to room 110, a “double”. It’s tiny, and the furniture is falling apart. The light is a neon strip. The wiring looks highly dubious. The walls are cardboard-thin and the bed has a hideous flowery duvet cover and lime-green sheets. It’s grim.

Nul points for interior design, then, but grim and grime are two different things. Where’s the filth? The carpet’s threadbare, but it’s been vacuumed. The bedding’s clean. The shower room’s old and grotty, but there’s nothing scarily organic lurking.

There’s one key test left. Gingerly, I strip the bed — and, finally, the Grosvenor lives up to its billing. Both mattress and duvet boast a rich, swirling cloud pattern of stains, testament to years of strenuous use. The general squalor of the place clearly hadn’t put previous guests off their stroke.

Stains or not, there was no backing out now. I spread out a sleeping bag and tried to sleep. After a long and troubled dream about an invasion of alien maggots, I went down to try the “hearty full English” promised on the website. The beans were an orange slurry; the fried bread was like a grease-soaked pan-scrubber. The rest I can describe only by sight. There’s a limit, and that sausage was it. I was out of there.

Later, I called the owner, Chirag Khajuria. Polite and soft-spoken, he sounded a bit bewildered at his award: “I wouldn’t say this is a perfect hotel. We have issues. I’ve only had it six months and there are many improvements to make. But some of the reviews on TripAdvisor are malicious. I just don’t believe that we’re the dirtiest hotel in Europe.”

Well, Chirag, neither do I. Your hotel is grotty and depressing, but it’s not actually pathogenic. A night there won’t do you any physical harm, unless you attempt suicide (and, as long as you’re reasonably stable to start with, that should take two nights at least). It’s certainly got nothing on last year’s noxious den of filth. Verdict on the Grosvenor: you’ll find more grime in the average student flat. Verdict on TripAdvisor: 3 out of 10 — must do worse.

Should you be tempted, the Grosvenor Hotel (63-65 Albert Road; 01253 351115, theblackpoolgrosvenor.co.uk) has rooms from £25pp per night.

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