Alf will be having a chat with Steven Joyce – our splendid Minister of Economic Development – with a very innovative idea he conceived while reading The Telegraph.
He will be proposing New Zealand encourages developing an industry of professional wankers.
Steven is likely to point out that New Zealand already has professional wankers, and there are far too many of the buggers, mainly to be found infesting the Labour and Green Parties, the NZ Party, the Internet Mana Party, some newspapers…
He then is likely to demand:
“So what the fuck are you on about, Alf?”
Or words to that effect.
But Alf is ready for that and will point out that he speaks not of political wankers but of sperm-producing wankers.
Let’s call it a sperm-donor industry, if Steven prefers to differentiate the breeding stock from political tossers.
Alf’s inspiration comes from learning that Britain has a shortage of sperm (something that should not surprise us if we have observed the decline of the British Empire over the last several decades).
What once was Great Britain has become a fragile United Kingdom in serious trouble and likely to lose its Scottish component at the upcoming referendum.
A country run by blokes with no balls and by women with far too many of them is clearly ill-equipped to spawn a new generation of Brits, let alone a new generation of admirable Brits, a plight seriously exacerbated by the influx of riff-raff over the past decade or two thanks to slack immigration policies.
A writer at The Telegraph has been banging on about the need for desperate measures for desperate times.
The desperate times to which he refers are a shortage of UK sperm donors, obliging clinics increasingly to import sperm from abroad.
In 2010, the last year for which figures are available, just 480 British men signed up to become sperm donors. While each of those men can legally donate to a maximum of 10 families, demand still outstrips supply, with waiting lists for donors in almost every part of the country.
Clinics are now increasingly ordering in sperm from abroad, in particular from Denmark – leading to a Telegraph report earlier this week on the “Invasion of the Viking babies”. Now 20 per cent of donations come from overseas, compared to 12 per cent as recently as 2005.
Theo Merz, the somewhat un-English name of the writer of this article, has been talking to donors to discuss the demands of the business.
He has come away (so to speak) with a realisation that it is one of the easiest jobs in the world.
That doesn’t necessarily mean it would be easy for Poms, of course, but why are so few of them signing up to take part, even with the incentive of up to £35 for each “deposit”?
Computer engineer James offers some ideas as to why British men are less likely to register than their Danish counterparts – despite similar amounts of money and legal protection being offered in both countries.
“I’d say we as a nation are very much trapped with some Victorian ideas,” the 39-year-old says. “To be crude, there’s the whole element of, ‘You’ve been to the clinic and touched yourself. That’s dirty.’ There’s a stigma behind it.
“People admit to being a blood donor but they wouldn’t say the same thing about their sperm. Europe and Scandinavia seem to have a different approach to it.”
The obstacles to be overcome before donating sperm may put some men off, too.
More than just offering the plastic cup and selection of porn of the popular imagination, licensed clinics have to provide checks for genetically inherited diseases and sexually transmitted infections – and many provide counselling sessions to check the men have thought through the implications of what they are doing.
Potential donors have to offer up not only their own medical history for inspection but also that of their family, going back to their grandparents. Just five per cent of men who apply will be eligible to donate.
“It doesn’t have to be complicated, but it can be,” says James, who was active as a donor five years ago and is now the biological father of five children he has never met and will never have any right to contact unless they come to him first.”
Another donor was on much the same wavelength.
“There’s a bit of a religious hangover in this country, the idea that it’s something you don’t talk about. If you’re a couple who’ve had a child from a sperm donation it’s not seen as weird, but if you’re a guy [donating sperm], people question your motives.”
Laura Witjens, the chair of the National Gamete Donation Trust, is working with the Department of Health to set up an independent sperm bank of the kind that already exists in countries like Denmark.
She told The Telegraph she hopes once a national body exists with the primary purpose of encouraging men to donate sperm, many more individuals will start coming forward.
They are her words. Clearly, she did not twig to the contrary proposition that many more individuals might start coming backwards, which – of course – would mean their deposits missed the cups.
Before anything happens, New Zealand must get its sperm-exporting business up and going.
Alf does not propose offering his services, despite the obvious attraction of knowing he would be serving The Empire. Mrs Grumble would be likely to disapprove of the Grumble seed being spread so far from home.
But he does have a few mates in the Eketahuna Club who expressed their interest, when the matter was raised in a discussion about the pathetic performances of the Pom cricket and soccer teams in recent weeks. And he is sure a tastefully designed “Wankers Wanted” sign would pull in plenty of starters from around the country.
He fancies Steven Joyce might be persuaded to ejaculate for the export cause, too. His sperm, appropriately marketed as Joyce Juice, is bound to command a premium price in the British market.