Andrew English's column

	The growth in delivery vans with untrained drivers creates more pollution and accidents, and injuries are more serious

Many years ago, when our environment needed only a few licks of paint rather than a complete overhaul, it was suggested to me that home delivery vans were the next big thing. They might even save the world from the polluting effects of our quick trips to the shops, I was informed. After all, it's when cars are started from cold that they chuck the most carbon dioxide into the atmosphere.

It was predicted that we would order everything via what was then called the Web. As with the redoubtable Mrs Bridges from TV's Upstairs, Downstairs telephoning the grocery order, we'd tap in our wishes and in place of the grocer's boy on a bicycle, a refrigerated van would appear from the supermarket or Internet store, delivering our shopping to our front door. Hmmm... the statistics seem to bear out the growth of these deliveries, with well over three million under-3.5-tonne vans on our roads and yearly registrations growing from less than 195,000 in 1997 to 365,000 in 2004.

Now, while this might be excellent news for workers at Ford's Transit plant in Southampton, I have started to wonder whether it is as good for the rest of us. Last year, a Dutch National Road Safety Research Institute study found that the growth in delivery vans with untrained drivers creates more pollution and road accidents, and that the injuries incurred in those smashes are more serious. The small country roads near me are packed with delivery vans from parcel firms and supermarkets. Their drivers seemingly never know their way around, and are permanently parked in lay-bys, crashing into each other or knocking on our door to ask for directions. It's so bad that the postman's van can hardly negotiate a route through the delivery van traffic jam.

And on the few occasions I have used these truck-delivered services, it's gone wrong right from the start. Worst offenders are the parcel-companies, which assume their customers spend all day crouching behind their front doors waiting for a precious package. Failure to answer the bell smartly, or worse, not be in when they call unannounced, means your parcel begins an endless cycle of rearranged deliveries made via a telephone system manned by irritating trolls.

This process can turn the most mild-mannered into shouting monsters. I've known normally delightful people visibly foaming at the mouth and screaming down the phone as they try for the 15th time to get a Sky digibox delivered.

So you have to drive your car to the parcel depot 15 miles away, removing the environmental advantages of the delivery service, only to find that the firm has sent your order back to the manufacturer. Then there's the business of 'substitution'. You ask for one thing, the staff haven't got it, so they put something else in instead. OK, I did want virgin, first-pressing olive oil, yet I suppose a blend will do. But toilet rolls instead? What's all that about?

And what exactly is in all these vans that are whizzing around the countryside? I saw a chiller box van the other day with 'Food Delivery Solutions' printed on its side. What does that mean to you? Pieces of extruded, mechanically recovered pig entrails swimming in a gravy of artificially flavoured transfats?

It sounds to me like the sort of two-pence-per-patient hospital food that is a bigger scandal than the disgusting school catering highlighted by saint Jamie Oliver. How about some food cooked with love, from raw ingredients on the premises? Is that OK with you?

So what about my latest order? I rearranged a parcel delivery for another day, but the firm has phoned to say the van has crashed into the postman. I'm too angry to write any more.

Andrew English is motoring correspondent of the Daily Telegraph