Every Monday morning at 6AM, my wife and I wake up, bleary-eyed, laptops ready, phones charged, game faces on. We’re not chasing concert tickets or flight deals - we’re hunting for something far more mundane yet impossibly elusive - a driving test slot.
Like thousands of learner drivers in London, we are caught in a bureaucratic black hole. Despite our weekly efforts to book a test through the DVSA’s official portal, we’re routinely met with a digital wall of despair.
Just last week, I was 18,000th in the queue. The outcome is always the same: no tests available for the next six months or more.
The result? We’re locked in a costly cycle of early driving lessons followed by “refresher” courses closer to the test - just to stay sharp. So far, we’ve spent nearly £3,000 between us. And we still don’t have a test date.
As a born-and-bred Londoner, I never envisaged needing a car. But with soaring property prices and population congestion pushing many of us towards quieter satellite towns - where public transport is patchy - driving has become a necessity.
And yet, the system is failing people like us. Massively. My test centre is officially listed at the maximum 24-week wait time, and it’s not an outlier. As of May 2025, 81% of test centres in England were reporting this same “maximum” figure. Compare that to just eight weeks a decade ago, and it’s clear the problem isn’t temporary, it’s systemic.
Making matters worse, third-party companies are exploiting loopholes to block-book appointments using licence numbers harvested from learners. They resell them for eye-watering markups, £200 or more. I’ve even been approached by instructors offering “fast-tracked” slots at inflated rates. But I refuse to engage in what feels increasingly like a black market for driving tests - not least because stories abound of scammers taking the money and vanishing.
The government response is frustratingly muted. And in some cases, actively unhelpful.
This year, the DVSA shut down Hither Green, once one of London’s busiest driving test centres. Why? Because widespread Low Traffic Neighbourhoods (LTNs) and road layout changes made it impossible for examiners to create meaningful test routes.
According to the DVSA, there were “logistical constraints” and “repetitive routes” — symptoms of road closures, congestion, and 20mph zones introduced by Lewisham Council.
Driving instructors in the area were already struggling to teach basics like parallel parking amid congestion caused by traffic displaced onto boundary roads. Now, with the centre gone, demand has been pushed onto nearby centres and even those further afield, like mine, intensifying the backlog.
LTNs were introduced in the name of climate progress and safer streets, goals I support in principle. But without strategic planning and collaboration with the DVSA, the result has been counterproductive in other areas. A major testing hub has vanished, and London’s learners are paying the price.
All of this — the closures, the bots, the black market — is eroding trust in the system. And frankly, I’m at breaking point. I’ve spent years working hard, contributing to the city, supporting my community, supporting diversity initiatives in my profession, and trying to play by the rules. But this experience has made me ask, is it even worth trying to do things the right way?
This is a public service. Why has it become a rigged game?
What’s worse is that learners are now forced to choose between waiting indefinitely, paying touts or giving up altogether. I am in a fortunate position, having a stable and well-paying career. But what happens to students? To shift workers? To single parents who can’t afford endless refreshers or inflated resales? This is a public service. Why has it become a rigged game?
The DVSA must upgrade its booking system to protect against bulk booking by bots. Licence swapping should be prevented. And crucially, the government must invest in examiner recruitment, reopen shuttered test centres, and coordinate with local authorities to ensure urban planning doesn’t derail national services like driving tests.
Learning to drive shouldn't be a months-long, high-stakes lottery.
And yet, every Monday morning, my wife and I log in, hoping this will be the week we beat the bots and find a slot.
Haider Chaudhry is a PR professional at Fight or Flight
