I have stayed in hotel rooms all over the world. USA. France. The Congo. Nigeria. Japan. Cyprus. The Middle East. And they're all the same. Every last one of them. Even the room I'm staying in at the London Hilton Metropole (four stars) is cut from exactly the same template as the Warrington Travelodge (no stars, and proud of it).
That is because, you'll be surprised to know, they are all the same room. Check into a hotel and you are stepping into H-Space, where the usual rules of time and space do not apply and a can of coke costs two quid fifty from the minibar.
Thanks to marvellous dimension-vectoring techniques developed by Stephen Hawking and Kirstie Allsopp, the universe now contains a single hotel room, located just outside Chelmsford, stretching away to infinity, but accessable from any H-Space portal. It also saves a fortune on the cleaning bills, the rest being merely window dressing.
You can steal soap, towels and dressing gowns as often as you like. But thanks to Relative Temporal Re-Mapping, it's all the same towel. Just don't try to bring the two together in the same/time space location outside of a specially prepared airing cupboard. It'll be bad. And end-of-days, cats and dogs sleeping together kind of way.
Think about it - why do you think the TV reception is always so bad, who are those lab-caoted gentlemen you keep meeting in the lift, and why do you always get a view of a concrete wall?
Just imagine, though - you've been in the same room that Paris Hilton shot her infamous scud video - quite possibly on the same night, except you missed it. And you've been in the same suite that John and Yoko did their bed-in for peace. You manky git.
So, next time the maid bursts in while you're mincing up and down in ladies' underwear, she is Mrs Vera Flange from a small town in Essex, and she's got a doctorate in Astro-Physics. She's folding the end of the toilet paper into a point for a damn good reason you know.