No wonder there’s an obesity crisis when we can’t even get out of our cars to order a latte

Money-Coutts: ‘Is the drive-through the laziest invention in history?’ – Alamy Stock Photo

Guess how many Starbucks drive-throughs there are in the UK? We haven’t got all day so I’ll tell you: it’s 284.

In 2008, the first one opened in Cardiff, and now we have nearly 300. In the past few months alone, plans have been submitted for further Starbucks drive-throughs in Aylesbury, Glasgow, Oldham and Peterborough. Costa is expanding similarly.

In 2011, it opened its first drive-through in a Nottingham retail park and, by 2025, it hopes to open its 500th. So if you miss your exit and are desperate for a chocolate fudge brownie frappé mocha (genuinely, a Costa drink), don’t worry because there’ll almost certainly be another opportunity for a grown-up milkshake at the next junction. Meanwhile, later this year, Caffè Nero will open its first drive-through at Stansted Airport, which may at least distract you from the fact you’re at Stansted Airport.

Obviously we’re also blessed with McDonald’s drive-throughs (938 in Britain), KFC (445), Burger King (155) and, in more recent years, Greggs and Krispy Kreme drive-throughs. Last year, Gail’s announced plans to open 10 drive-throughs, albeit focussed in London and the south east where the Gail’s customer tends to live. “We don’t need to leave the Audi, darling, they can take our order for a mango and passionfruit chia pot from here!” According to Savills, the demand for drive-through space is at a 10-year high thanks to the pandemic, and rents for possible drive-through spaces have increased 25 per cent in a year.

Is the drive-through the laziest invention in history? It’s up there, surely. Here’s a scenario: you’ve been driving for several hours, potentially along the A303 (poor you) and that incredibly irritating bit where everyone slows down to gawp at Stonehenge even though it doesn’t look like much from the road. You have been sitting for some time and your right buttock, or left buttock, or maybe both buttocks, are feeling numb. You could also do with a snack and a hot drink, so you decide you’ll pull over at the next service station where – oh, hello – there’s a Starbucks drive-through. No need to get out of the car. Easier not to. Order a latte and a panini from a little window. On you go.

Except why would you not choose to park up and stroll a few feet to get a coffee? Get some lovely circulation back in those legs (and buttocks). Also, who are those people queuing at drive-throughs, ordering their venti cappuccinos ahead of another hour or so on the motorway and not worrying about needing a pee? Sorry, I don’t mean to lower the tone, but, oh, to be a person who can ingest large drinks on long car journeys with such cavalier disregard for the bladder.

Some put the mushrooming of drive-throughs across the country down to the pandemic because we became used to this “more hygienic” way of collecting food. Others argue that 20-somethings increasingly prefer using technology to order food, rather than face-to-face contact. Whatever the reasons, it feels indicative of various problems that we face right now: obesity, an aversion to moving much, the constant craving for food which is making us ill. Although you can find drive-throughs in quite posh places now, serving pretty posh stuff. A few months ago, a friend in the Cotswolds suggested a deviation to a drive-through not far from Cirencester. It’s called Jolly Nice (of course it is), and as we crawled forwards in a line of cars waiting to order, I spotted that they offered pheasant burgers on the menu. So there you have it, the poshest drive-through in Britain, if you fancy a visit and a pheasant burger over a Big Mac.

I’m not being (entirely) snotty about fast food. I appreciate drive-throughs can be quick and convenient if you’re in a rush, although the queue snaking back occasionally suggests that it might be quicker to heave yourself out of the car to buy a coffee over the counter. I understand if you have squawking children in the back and need to lob a few Happy Meals behind. I’m a big fan of a Burger King Whopper every now and then myself. In Mumbai airport in January, I stood at the counter gazing at the menu, looking for a Whopper, only to realise they obviously don’t offer beef, so I experimented with a mutton Whopper instead. Not bad.

But this boom in drive-throughs suggests we’re increasingly relying on them when most of us could stretch to a few more steps. I’m not suggesting marathons. I’m not suggesting we take off like that bloke who’s just run up Africa (although I suspect you wouldn’t catch the man who’s been dubbed the “Hardest Geezer” at a drive-through). According to new figures, half of British adults fail to walk 5,000 steps three times a week. Come on, that’s feeble. That means half of us are only managing to waddle just over two miles, three times a week. What’s happening on the other four days? Presumably everyone’s in the drive-through queue at their local Starbucks.

If we walked more, according to these recent figures, we could – surprise, surprise – cut rates of obesity, heart disease and diabetes, lessening the financial strain on the NHS. Should you manage 10,000 steps (or around four to five miles) three times a week, for instance, you’re 41 per cent less likely to be diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. Ideally, of course, you’re not walking directly to a Krispy Kreme outlet because that won’t help matters much. But every little helps, and all that.

People who bang on about their steps can be very boring. I know because I’ve been a step bore. They’re almost as bad as people who insist on telling you about their dreams. But suggesting that we could all park and walk a few more steps between snacks doesn’t feel like a hugely outlandish proposal. Also, you’ll get to use the lavatory.

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