Fertility laws receive a manhandling

As medical professionals and the public are given until 25 November to submit their views on changes to the laws governing fertility treatment and embryo research, we at The Rockall Times take the opportunity to expose the shocking truth behind the so-called "internet sperm banks" where desperate, spunk-hungry single women shell out hard cash for vital seed in their attempts to further crowd the planet with mewling infants.

On a narrow back-street in the fenland town of Littleport we tracked down the head-office of one of Britains growing number of online sperm banks. The premises were not what we had expected for an institution upon which the hopes and dreams of so many childless people depend. Sandwiched between Blockbuster Video and the Jolly Plaice fish and chip shop the premises of Sperm Unlimited (National Coverage) Ltd (SpUNC.org.com.com.com.org) occupy an upstairs back room which smells of stale chip fat and cigarettes. The office window overlooks the glass fronted training room of a local gymnasium.

As we entered the proprietor was taking a business call on speaker-phone, he had his back to us and, as he dealt with his client, he gazed absently-mindedly at the sweating leotard-clad athletes across the narrow courtyard.

"Yes, yes, absolutely fresh and disease-free, missus," he assured the empty room.

"You mean you have no frozen stock whatsoever?" asked a disembodied voice.

"Nah, we cant do that no more. If we freezes it we has to be registered and buy a freezer and keep books and stuff. No, we has it delivered to order. Pretty much on demand, well give us ten minutes' notice like. And not on a Saturday night — no chance after about 8 oclock on Saturday. Or Wednesdays if Peterborough are playing at home, obviously."

"How about next week?"

"Where are you luv?" he asked.

"South Kensington."

"Well I don't normally do more than thirty miles from home."

"Why? Because you need it couriered in under an hour?"

"No, cos I get so cold on the moped I experience a downturn on the supply-side."

"Ill have to think about it."

"Right you are, you've got the number."

The chair swivels to reveal a small, fat balding man in his late fifties. He jumps in surprise and then peers at us through bottle-lensed glasses. "Cor, where the fuc*k did you spring from?" he asked, adding: "Don't you ever knock? This is medical stuff here, confidential like. What do you want? Deposit or withdrawal? Cos we don't need no deposits just now and you can lose interest if you withdraw too early. He broke off into a wheezing laugh. "Withdraw too early... that's one of my favourites that is."

I explained that I was an investigative journalist from a national newspaper and that my colleague was a highly-trained photographer. "We are investigating internet sperm banks in the context of proposed changes to the laws governing fertility treatment and embryo research," I continued. "Could you give us some insight into how the business operates?"

"Such as?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Well, how many donors do you have on your books?"

"I couldn't tell you that — it's all got to be nom de plume like."

I pressed him: "Rough numbers — you must be able to give me that..."

"Well I suppose. Let's think. Business is a bit slow just now, so I ain't used Reg from the fish shop for a bit. I ain't used big Al since he got a dose on the trip to Amsterdam at Easter. Cor that took some fuc*king explaining! Really were on a skeleton staff but if we get a rush I can call some in like — then it's all hands to the pumps."

"And what about the health issues?" I ask.

"No problem, I 'ave a good breakfast, sausage, egg, bacon sometimes a bit 'o black pudding. You know, keep the old strength up. I'm careful with the hygiene side too, always wash me hands before serving in the chip shop an that."

"How about donor anonymity?"

"Right, yeah, I never tell 'em me name and change the mobile twice a year. Seems to work."

I was about to protest that children born from donated sperm now have a right to know their biolgical father's identity, even if he runs a fish-and-chip shop, when the telephone rings. Our source answers it, still on speaker phone.

"Hello, Sperm Unlimited (National Coverage) Ltd. How can I help you?"

"Hello, it's [XXXX] from Kensington, we were speaking a few minutes ago."

"Oh, yes missus, you've had a little think 'ave you?"

"Yes, I'd like to, erm... well..."

"Ok, but like I said, I don't normally do long distance. Look, if I come down there would you be prepared to handle the manual extraction yourself? We could say £50."

The caller's voice became somewhat quizzical as she remarked: "£50? I thought it would be more."

With practiced ease the businessman moves the conversation quickly on. "Let me ask some routine questions. How fit are you?"

"Well, I work out four times a week in a gym," answers the caller. The owner swivels the chair to look out of the window. And responds: "I bet you do. Do you wear a leotard? Does the sweat..." At this point he breaks off and turns to speak to us.

"Look, piss off you two. I think Im going to have to take an unscheduled delivery in a minute."

As we leave we hear him return to his sales patter. "So you're pretty fit then? OK, if you wear the leotard I'll pay £75 but I absolutely can't afford no more."

Previously

• Fully-grown male born from 21-year-old sperm
• UK sperm donors suffer identity crisis
• Hurley/Jordan in celebrity reproductive organs shocker