“Hey, rich bitch!” squawks the emaciated ice junkie skipping along the Bendigo street Jack Daniels can in hand.

Her target, an elderly woman lugging two Salvos bags, looks bewildered as the sprite runs past her, grabs an abandoned receipt from the footpath, shouts “11 dollars” and uses it to wipe her backside before dancing out in front of traffic.

One car brakes, to a barrage of abuse from the poisonous little imp. A second car stops, to the same calumny, before she scampers off toward the mall.

It’s not the first oddity since arriving at the iconic heritage Shamrock Hotel. A touched bloke bellowing ‘Stewie’s got a grand!’ over and over ran past me as I hauled my bags into the pub.

Inside, I found three kids’ swim pools of brown water ceiling leaks around the ornate stairwell. In reception. Just a spit from the framed Charles and Diana newspaper clips when the pub reopened after a major reno 40 years ago.

Settling in, the room didn’t match the website pics, much smaller. Reception staff were happy to provide another room, no charge, unfortunately it wasn’t any bigger. Then third time lucky, larger room, and again no charge. Lovely staff.

In the interim, my small three-piece cohort discovered various human hairs in a nearby eatery, Mexican staff who didn’t know what nachoes were, street smokers all over their al fresco dining, over-cooked fish, more nuffies singing and yelling on the street, and local louts hollering at them from their car.

In the morning, a poor, prone bloke is snoring on the footpath in front of my car outside the hotel. Should’ve invited him in for breakfast but even he might have been disappointed with the over-priced mangy big breakfast and burnt coffee. Then again, of course …

Makes you feel sad about an historical showcase like the Shamrock. It’s a pretty place this old pile. Loads of colourful leadlight, thick carpet, polished timber bannisters, cream columns, lithographs and daguerreotypes of old Sandhurst, dimpled leather Chesterfields, printed wallpaper, mosaic tiling, timber balconies, flowers, palms, giant mirrors, ceiling roses, marble mantles and fireplaces, chandeliers … seriously pretty, truth be told.

Anyway, checking out, the boss turned sour and reneged on the day before’s complimentary upgrade.

Maybe I should’ve mentioned the dirty carpet, stained sheets, lack of wi-fi, bathroom vents or fans, and 7am drinkers under our window but figured if they needed the extra $27 so badly I ought to let it slide.