This empire, run by the eccentric (and let’s be real, controversial) Sir Tim Martin, didn’t just appear overnight. It started as a single pub in Muswell Hill, London, back in 1979. Fast forward forty-five years, and you can barely walk half a mile in any direction without tripping over a converted bank, cinema, or post office.
Why do they own so many buildings that used to be banks? It’s a running joke at this point. If you see a grand Victorian banking hall with faded grandeur and a smell of bleach and bargain curry, congratulations—you’ve found a Wetherspoons. It’s almost like they have a monopoly on architectural regret.
And let’s not pretend you haven’t got a favourite one. Everyone has a “local Spoons” they defend with the ferocity of a football fan. Maybe it’s the one with the giant Wetherspoons App that never works, or the one where the floor is literally sticky in a specific spot near the toilets. You know the one I mean.
Where Are They All Hiding?
Unsurprisingly, London is the king of the Spoons, with over 100 outlets. But the real action is in the provinces. Scotland has around 60, Wales has about 30, and Northern Ireland boasts over 20. But the density is what gets me. Go to any small market town like Royston or Newmarket, and you’ll find one. It’s a law of nature, like gravity or the inevitability of a ketchup-smeared menu.
List Of All Wetherspoons
I remember being in Exeter once, and there were three within a quarter-mile radius. Three! That’s more Spoons than there are functional public toilets in some entire counties. It’s a weird form of comfort, honestly. No matter how lost you are, a Spoons is always waiting with a luke-cold coffee and a questionable jacket potato.
But here’s the thing: they’re closing some, too. Sir Tim has been shuttering about 20 to 30 underperforming pubs a year recently. Inflation, energy costs, and the smell of stale beer finally catching up with them. So the number isn’t fixed—it’s a living, breathing, slightly tired beast.
