Name: The sausage hotel.

Official name: Gasthaus Böbel.

Location: Take a flying guess.

Germany? Natürlich. In the small southern German town of Rittersbach in Baden-Württemberg, to be precise.

OK. And why do people call it the sausage hotel? If you visited, it would be fairly obvious. The owner is a butcher called Claus Böbel, and he, um, really likes bratwurst.

Who doesn’t? Vegetarians, Jews, Muslims, people who are easily put off by the bändel, a pale stripe down the length of the bratwurst which, as Böbel’s website helpfully explains, is “the thin layer on the outside of the pork intestine”.

“Intestine” just isn’t a yummy word. I think the sausage hotel would win you over. It has sausage wallpaper, bars of soap that look like sausages, pillows that look like sausages, bedside tables made to look like drums of pork mince. They have hooks on the ceiling …

Hooks on the ceiling? From which real sausages hang. “Our slogan, ‘Sleeping under a bratwurst sky’, is not just a marketing slogan but actually for real, so that when I look up from the bed I see sausages,” Böbel says.

OK … There are butcher’s knives on the walls.

I’m getting scared now. As a romantic gesture, you can get Böbel to send a card to your loved one, including a smoked bratwurst bent into the shape of a heart. “This is absolute bratwurst heaven and I love that,” Böbel says. “I wanted to get a bit of holiday feeling in my house and make the bratwurst attractive for the whole world.”

Hmm. Well, I’m very happy for him. It’s just that my idea of heaven doesn’t involve spending the night inside the fantasy of a crazed butcher. But that’s just me. Oh, you just need a day at one of Böbel’s “sausage events”.

Maybe. At least I imagine the food is good. Sausages do belong on a plate, after all. Böbel has found ways to push the envelope there, too. Besides all the sausage staples, such as bratwurst in a bun, or with sauerkraut, or raw pork mince spread on bread …

God almighty … the menu also offers such unlikely dishes as bratwurst soup, bratwurst salad, and bratwurstschnitzel (“flattened bratwurst in crispy breadcrumbs with potato salad”). There’s even a “kleine spontane bratwurstprobe”.

So that’s a small, spontaneous … what? It’s a sampler of different sausages.

That’s a relief. And for dessert there’s bratwurst ice-cream and “chocolate pudding with slices of bratwurst”

Hey! Don’t mess with chocolate! I suppose you have to draw the line somewhere.

Do say: “This is the wurst hotel in Germany.”

Don’t say: “Excuse me, do you have a vegetarian pillow?”