Britain's High Streets have become nothing but charity shops, bookies, and coffee chains Number of charity shops in Britain has risen by 30 per cent in five years Gambling spreads as betting shops replace local businesses Britain's 15,400 coffee shops now boast more staff than the British Army 'No magic wand' can save British town centres 'Queen of Shops': Mary Portas's suggestions on how to revive British town centres have been branded 'nostalgic' and 'foolish' So much for the old Napoleonic barb that the British are a 'nation of shopkeepers'. Not any more, we're not. Judging by the latest dismal report on the retail industry - out this week - the only shops left on the High Street will soon be those offering cheap food and drink, secondhand clothes or electronic roulette. Everything else will be sold in an out‑of-town megastore or online. For all the embryonic signs of recovery elsewhere in the economy, the outlook has never been more bleak on the High Street. And it has all been compounded by this week's battle of the retail gurus. Last weekend, Bill Grimsey, former boss of DIY chain Wickes and supermarket group Iceland, gave a sneak preview of his long‑awaited independent report on the state of British shopping. A deeply depressing 20,000 retail businesses, he said, are now 'zombie companies ... walking dead with £2.3 billion of net liabilities'. He also fired a broadside at self-styled 'Queen of Shops' Mary Portas and her 2011 report - commissioned by the Government - on how to save the High Street. Her suggestions, he said, were 'nostalgic', 'foolish' and a 'PR stunt'. Then, on Monday, she hit back in the House of Commons, telling a committee of MPs that Grimsey didn't care about the High Street and that she was fed up with all the 'bashing' she had received for her unpaid efforts. In a punchy display, peppered with longueurs of self-pity, she complained that the Government's response to all her hard work had been lukewarm while the outlook remained dire. The traditional shopping chains, she warned, were 'never coming back' to the High Street. A thing of the past: The old Napoleonic barb that the British are a 'nation of shopkeepers' no longer seems to apply given the outlook for town centre retailers By Monday evening, the BBC's Robert Peston had joined the fray with a new BBC2 series charting the decline of the shop counter and the revolution in Britain's retail habits. In one upcoming episode, Sir Stuart Rose, former boss of Marks & Spencer, will issue this apocalyptic warning about the High Street: 'Don't try to resuscitate the dead.' The doom and gloom continued a couple of days later as Mr Grimsey and his panel of experts finally unveiled their report and concluded that great chunks of the British town centre will never see a shop again. Declaring that there is 'already too much retail space in the UK', the report warns that shops will be 'just a part' of the High Street of the future. It prescribes a total overhaul of planning, business rates and city centre housing, along with a one-off levy on retail giants. Nowhere, it seems, is safe from retail blight. Take, for example, the delightful Suffolk market town of Sudbury. Outwardly buzzing and prosperous, it is still smarting from recent comments by the BBC's Fiona Bruce. The Antiques Roadshow presenter remarked that the recession had 'taken its toll' on Sudbury's medieval streets. Two decades back, the town was the epitome of East Anglian loveliness in another popular BBC antiques series, Lovejoy. But Miss Bruce had been struck by today's 'forlorn empty premises and an overabundance of charity shops'. Charity case: Fresh data suggests that the number of charity shops in Britain has grown by 30 per cent in just five years and now tops the 10,000 mark Local councillors have called her remarks 'utter rubbish'. But a visit to Suffolk suggests that she is on to something. And if a place like Sudbury is in trouble, what hope is there for the rest of Britain? What's more, her words do not just apply to Sudbury. Fresh data suggests that the number of charity shops in Britain has grown by 30 per cent in just five years and now tops the 10,000 mark - double the number of British shoe shops. And if you set aside the mandatory 'clone zone' shop fronts in every town centre (Boots, Halifax, Starbucks, etc.), then almost everything else falls into one of five categories: burgers, baristas, betting, bargains or boarded-up. A single East London street now boasts no less than 18 betting shops. The latest figures from the hospitality analysts, Allegra Strategies, show that Britain's 15,400 coffee shops now boast more staff than the entire British Army. And let no one try to paint this as some sort of alternative High Street revival. According to retail experts Local Data Company, the number of boarded-up retail premises is still static at 14 per cent. In recent months, the Mail's occasional Changing Britain series has explored the dramatic changes in the way we live over just one decade - from marriage and religion to housing and employment. Shopping experience: Orpington High street now has 12 charity shops in one short stretch, with Cancer Research UK having two shops on different sides of the high street almost facing each other Few changes, however, have been more glaring than the way we shop. The recession, of course, hasn't helped. Given the overall state of the economy, it is not surprising that more and more people are turning to charity shops. According to the Charity Retail Association, they raise a magnificent and much-needed £220 million a year. But are they, actually, starting to be a cause rather than a symptom of High Street decline? Let's be clear. Charity shops and their armies of selfless volunteers represent the best of British. Many people, though, believe that we have reached saturation point. Just ask Jan Pearce. 'I'm about to lose my job,' says the acting manager at Impressions, a fashion boutique on North Street, Sudbury. On both sides are charity shops. Jan says that they are lovely neighbours and that it's been a tough few years for all of them. But she has seen her own workforce cut from six to four and now down to two. The recent opening of yet another charity shop a few doors down - a shiny new Sue Ryder store in place of what used to be outdoor clothing chain Millets - has been the final straw. The menswear boutique over the road has shut down and now Impressions is following suit. 'We're like the cheese in a charity sandwich,' says Jan, pointing out that there is also a Barnardo's charity shop further along. 'People come in here thinking we must be a charity shop, too - and some of our clothes are even cheaper than theirs,' she says, holding up a dress with a £4.99 tag. 'But our stock isn't donated, we don't have volunteers and we don't get a discount on the business rates like a charity does. Our landlord has been very good but we just can't keep going.' Sudbury has all today's usual out-of-town attractions, of course - a Tesco, Waitrose and Sainsbury's. And if you want a bag of nails, you need to go to the ubiquitous Homebase or B&Q. The old ironmongery disappeared at roughly the same time as Lovejoy. The old family butcher on North Street is now a Subway. What was Marks & Spencer is now a 99p store. According to the Association of British Bookmakers (ABB), the total number of betting shops has remained at a constant 8,700 over the past decade Every town in Britain knows the story. For all the noise about Fiona Bruce's remarks, it was only four months ago that Sudbury's own town council voiced its concerns about the number of takeaways and charity shops. I spot nine of the latter, while no one has any idea how many food joints are serving a town of just 12,000 souls. There are a dozen in one street alone. In a snug tearoom (just down from the St Nicholas Hospice charity shop), I meet Jack Owen, former mayor and a Labour town and district councillor. Obviously, a charity shop is better than an empty space, he says. But we need more real shops. Let's see a cut in the rates for small retailers.' As things stand, charity shops receive 80 per cent relief on business rates, making them a tasty prospect for a landlord who would otherwise have to pay the full amount for an empty shop. The Government also offers business rate relief on the very cheapest premises - though it's no use for a shop like Jan Pearce's. And while councils may offer additional business rate relief, they must pay for it themselves. Very few do. Who wants to cut back on the proverbial 'frontline services', let alone executive pay and pensions, in order to support a struggling shopkeeper? Sudbury, I am glad to say, is still bustling, nonetheless. The town clerk, Sue Brotherwood, points out that there are 21 independent retailers, a popular twice-weekly market and 14 hairdressing salons. What she believes is fundamental to town centre prosperity, and both Mary Portas and Bill Grimsey would agree, is free parking. As for charity shops, Sue admits that Sudbury has reached full capacity - as, interestingly, do most of the charity shops themselves. In some places, such as Headington in Oxfordshire, charities account for as much as 10 per cent of all retail. Orpington, on the London-Kent border, has been described as the country's charity shopping capital. So I head for Orpington High Street. Anything that isn't a bank or a cafe seems to be a charity shop. There are more than a dozen, including a matching pair of Cancer Research shops, on either side of the street. Struggling: For all the embryonic signs of recovery elsewhere in the economy, the outlook has never been more bleak on the High Street Mandy Wines is manager of both of them. She says they are doing the town a big favour. Orpington is now a destination for charity shoppers. 'It's the charity shops that keep Orpington alive,' adds Beth Hirst at Age UK. 'We've just had a couple who'd come all the way from the coast for some bric-a-brac.' All make the same point. What would people rather see: a charity shop or an empty shop? In some High Streets, though, they are likely to see something else, too: yet another betting shop. For the other striking change to so many town centres is the invasion of the bookies. According to the Association of British Bookmakers (ABB), the total number of betting shops has remained at a constant 8,700 over the past decade. What is changing is their location, nowhere more so than in the London borough of Newham, which has more than 80 of them. With 18 in High Street North alone, it's like a suburb of Las Vegas. It's all the more striking given that a third of the residents of Newham are Muslim - and Islam forbids gambling. 'This is also one of the poorest parts of London,' says Labour councillor and head of environment Ian Corbett. Most of the people in these betting shops are not betting on horses. They're playing the gaming machines where you can lose £100 in a few seconds. That's why we call it the crack cocaine of gambling.' We're not talking fruit machines. These are armour-plated, casino-style booths which can pay out up to £500 at a time. Mr Corbett says that for people without bank accounts - and there are plenty in Newham - they are the alternative to online gambling. Having caught a 14-year-old in action, the council is reviewing the licence of a local branch of William Hill (a company spokesman calls this 'disproportionate' and claims that the boy was older). Worrying: A deeply depressing 20,000 retail businesses, according to Bill Grimsey, former boss of DIY chain Wickes and supermarket group Iceland, are now 'zombie companies... walking dead with £2.3billion of net liabilities' When I start chatting to a group of men playing roulette in there, the manager shoos me off the premises. The council recently blocked the opening of yet another branch of Paddy Power. Yet I walk past three Paddy Powers in the space of five minutes. One of them, as Mr Corbett points out ruefully, has just replaced a famous old pie-and-mash shop, a meeting place for generations of East Enders. 'I'm not against gambling,' he says. 'But I'd like local authorities to be able to limit the number of these machines.' According to the ABB, Britain's 33,000 gaming machines rake in no less than £1.5 billion each year. Current rules restrict each betting shop to four machines. So if you want to operate more, the solution is simple: open more shops. But Mr Corbett, like many locals I meet, argues that the rise in these machines is matched by a rise in anti-social behaviour on the streets outside. It's hardly the solution to the High Street malaise. There is, of course, no painless answer to any of this. No one, not even Miss Portas or Mr Grimsey or the Prime Minister, has a magic wand for the simple reason that it's down to all of us: the shoppers. If we are not willing to change our own habits, then the once-mighty High Street might as well end up alongside Fiona Bruce - on Antiques Roadshow.