Not for the squeamish! Marco Pierre White’s latest hotel venture in Wiltshire is nothing if not thought provoking. 

The Rudloe Arms should come with a mental health warning. Whilst the menu makes some small concessions to vegetarians, the decor certainly doesn’t. A sensitive soul may well find their sleep disturbed by the medley of dead animals which crowd in from all sides, interspersed with oversized vintage celebrity photographs so that if the animals don’t get you, some long dead starlet might well do so. 

Thankfully the life size black and white print of a naked Marco Pierre White with an artfully draped salmon was in the downstairs hall, en route to the restaurant.

As the hotel’s owner, he has certainly made his mark. One only hopes he has actually casseroled the remains of the skull & antler symphony, not that venison featured on the menu the night we stayed. 

Hidden in a slightly obscure, yet well placed corner of Wiltshire, the house looks as if it were a quirky Victorian creation long before the Mr. White makeover. It was all rather resplendently hidden behind rampant autumnal leaves, which encroached on the windows with wild abandon.

A short twilight stroll led to fine views over nearby Bath and the quintessential hotel view, beautifully framed within a wrought iron arch: with every window brightly lit behind the vegetation, the hotel looked as if it were engulfed by flames.

There were extensive apple orchards and neat enclosures of shepherd’s huts and chicken houses, with neither a sign of shepherds nor hens.  The restaurant appears to fill in a space between the house and the old stable block and has the interior appearance of an upmarket pub. 

We ate at the long central table, beautifully hand planed, and thankfully separated from the coughing of our neighbours by a giant wooden pineapple. 

Marco is not actually in residence, leaving the cooking in the semi capable hands of Phil Bayliss. On a dinner B&B package, the limited menu did not over impress. A mini sausage roll and tomato soup arrived as we perused the wine list where the average price for some fairly mediocre wines was about £40. We didn’t want a whole bottle between two, but the glass options were very limited: red, white or blush at £9 a glass, and a small one at that. 

My starter pate was quite tasteless while my husband’s potted pork terrine was the far more flavoursome option; both came with sourdough french toast.

The game pie was encased in tasty pastry although the filling was more of a chunky mince than a chunky meat although tasty enough. A portion of good crunchy chips on the side was £4.

Pudding was sticky toffee pudding which tastes the same the world over while Simon went back to his Australian roots and had the affogato.

The meal was gastro pub rather than fine dining. Afterwards we retired to one of the four available drawing rooms for coffee, ariot with artfully contrived clutter.

The pick of the bedrooms are in the main house whilst we stayed in the newer Treetops building, a short stroll away at the bottom of the drive.

The room was comfortable with more mini antlers and a large stuffed fox. Simple Mouseman furniture completed the look, down to the little wooden lamps with the crawling mouse on the stem. 

My main gripe with the room was the lack of good lighting; even the bedside lamps provided little illumination for reading. The power shower, within a repro antique bathroom, was good although the water could have been a tad hotter.

However, we slept well on a comfy bed, to run the restaurant gauntlet again the next morning. Full breakfast was only to be had at a £6 supplement and a glass of juice was £5 which seemed rather measly. 

I had sausage and tomatoes on the rehashed french toast again, whilst Simon had nicely poached eggs with bacon, all totally adequate.

Afterwards I had a wander in the grounds with burgeoning orchards and coops. I noticed a member of staff with his head in one chicken house and asked if the hotel actually had hens. He replied that it was just a storage unit for deliveries, which seemed to sum up the style over substance of the place.

I was most impressed with the taxidermy of Emily Meyer, from Norfolk. Check out her beautiful wren with her nest within the eye socket of a sheep skull or her two playful magpies with a strand of wool caught in barbed wire. 

The hotel offers a disturbing and intriguing glimpse into the mind of Marco Pierre White, a rather ‘welcome to my nightmare’ scenario. If they would only up the ante on the food it would be a great experience.