Britain’s Roads: A National Joke with Craters to Prove It

I used to think the worst thing about driving in Britain was other drivers. Tailgaters, middle-lane hoggers, the odd bloke in a Nissan Leaf who thinks he’s saving the planet single-handedly. But no. The true enemy is the road itself — a surface now so battered it makes Basra look well maintained.

According to the RAC, pothole-related breakdowns are up nine per cent this year. That’s 6,575 drivers whose cars collapsed between April and June. Shock absorbers smashed. Suspension snapped. Wheels bent into shapes normally reserved for balloon animals.

Now, potholes are supposed to be a winter party trick. Water freezes, expands, and the tarmac pops open like a cheap suit at a wedding buffet. But 2025 decided to gift us a cold, wet spring too, so our roads now look like they’ve been shelled by field artillery. Honestly, the only people benefitting are wheel alignment shops and chiropractors.

Of course, councils say they’re “on it.” Which, translated, means chucking some loose gravel into the hole, stamping it down with a boot, and hoping it lasts until the next election. The RAC sensibly suggests resurfacing roads properly. But that’s expensive, and politicians hate expensive. They’d rather stand in a hi-vis vest pretending to care while someone pours lukewarm tarmac into a hole that will be back by next Tuesday.

Labour has promised to fix one million potholes a year. Lovely. Except there are several million already, and more forming daily. It’s like promising to empty the Atlantic with a teaspoon. Admirable effort, doomed result.

So here’s the reality: driving in Britain is no longer a test of skill. It’s a test of luck. You either dodge the craters or you don’t. And when you don’t, congratulations — you’ve just sponsored the nation’s booming suspension repair industry.