Mounjaro and Wegovy: Will weight-loss drugs leads to cheaper holidays?

They’re the miracle drugs that have changed the face of the Western world, literally. But could weight-loss drugs like Mounjaro and Wegovy be about to deliver an unexpected perk in the form of cheaper holidays?

That’s the assessment of analysts at the American investment bank Jefferies, which recently published a headline-grabbing research note looking at how our embrace of weight-loss drugs might affect the aviation sector.

The underlying theory is a simple one — as society sheds the kilos, airlines will burn less fuel flying us around the world. That produces instant savings for airlines, which spend billions on jet fuel every year, which should result in lower ticket prices for customers.

The investment bankers have done some number-crunching to back that up. They calculate that a 10 per cent collective weight loss effort across Western society (which isn’t implausible, with one in 10 already using weight-loss drugs) would reduce airline fuel usage by about 2 per cent.

On the face of it, that might not sound like much. But when you factor in the vast sums spent keeping planes topped up, and the extraordinary lengths airlines already go to in order to keep their flight weight down, you can see why the aviation sector might be rubbing its hands.

Airlines already run on thin profit margins (no pun intended), and will actively look for any chance they can get to reduce the weight of flights by even a few kilograms. Multiply that saving across the thousands of seats and flights every day, and it can start to add up to serious money.

Most famously, back in 1987, United Airlines claimed to have saved $US40,000 ($57,110) in fuel costs by removing a single olive from each of its in-flight salads. And while some suspect that particular story to be apocryphal, it isn’t the only time that airlines have changed their menus with weight (and savings) in mind. Virgin Atlantic switched to lighter puddings (think panna cotta instead of sticky toffee pudding) for the same reason.

In 2018, United decided to switch to a lighter paper for its in-flight magazine, reducing each copy by about 28g in weight. It later claimed that this tiny change resulted in savings of about $US300,000.

For a more recent example of how airlines obsess over the weight of their planes, look no further than the recent war of words between Michael O’Leary and Elon Musk over whether Ryanair should sign up for Musk’s ultra-speedy Starlink Wi-Fi.

For O’Leary, the idea of installing hefty antennas on every Ryanair flight made the proposal a total non-starter. It wasn’t just the upfront costs of the technology, but the fact that the additional weight would add about €100 million ($165m) to Ryanair’s annual fuel bill – a massive headache for an ultra-low-cost carrier.

All of this obsession with weight begs the obvious, if uncomfortable, question: why don’t airlines care more about how much their passengers weigh?

It isn’t like the idea hasn’t come up before. Travellers with long memories might remember O’Leary’s one-time obsession with introducing a so-called “fat tax”, with an extra premium for larger passengers. Though, looking back, the gambit seemed to be more about generating headlines than mounting a serious proposal.

In 2013, one small startup airline — a regional carrier called Samoa Air — did attempt to introduce a “pay what you weigh” policy, instructing passengers to input their weight when booking a ticket. Within two years, the venture had folded, though it isn’t clear if the policy had anything to do with its failure.

In truth, it’s not hard to imagine how any serious attempt at a so-called “fat tax” would backfire. Asking passengers to weigh themselves could also create extra queues at the check-in desk, potentially costing more money than the policy would raise in the first place. It would almost certainly trigger some kind of backlash from customers too.

The EU’s Aviation Safety Agency conducts periodic surveys in airports, asking passengers to weigh themselves. In 2021, it found that the average passenger weighed 76kg, a one per cent increase on the last survey in 2009.

Given the last survey took place before weight-loss jabs, it will be interesting to see what the next one reveals. With an estimated one in 10 Britons currently using them, it isn’t implausible that we see that number come down.

Will it lead to a fall in ticket prices? According to OAG, an aviation data platform, legacy carriers spend about one-third of their money on fuel. But on a typical single-aisle plane, the passengers account for only about 20 per cent of the overall weight. So even if we all end up looking like Jonah Hill or Kelly Osbourne — two of the most dramatic fat jab transformations — it’s hard to see it making a massive difference.

Furthermore, according to the same EU survey, the average passenger takes on almost 7.7kg of carry-on luggage, which is a 24 per cent jump on the 2009 figure. Given the preponderance of electronic devices that you see on flights, that’s perhaps not a surprise. But it does suggest we risk cancelling out any personal weight-loss benefits with all our excess baggage.

Then there’s the fact that fat jabs suppress your appetite. The bean-counters at airlines like Ryanair rely heavily on revenue from in-flight food and drink to balance the books, and the proliferation of weight-loss drugs could in theory trigger a slump in sales. This in turn might mean they are forced to ratchet up fares.

Still, perhaps we shouldn’t be too pessimistic. Weight-loss jabs are already projected to save billions of taxpayer cash, as declining rates of obesity relieve some of the pressure on healthcare systems. According to one UK paper, the British economy could be £4.5 billion ($8.5b) better off with the jabs.

And if they can shave a few quid off the average airline ticket too, that would be a nice little bonus — a cherry on top of the cake.