From The Sun:
Retirement can be difficult for some men, calling time on years of structured days and familiar colleagues. Many take up golf, build kit cars or finally get time to do something with the garden. Former math teacher Clive sits in the back of a van outside strangers’ houses pleasuring himself. But the happily married 62-year-old is no pervert, or menace to society — as he would have it, he is the opposite. Clive has fathered 65 children, with another 14 on the way. He says his goal is to father 100. Where many donors have shied away from revealing their identity, Clive has allowed Channel 4 to film him for new documentary — Super Sperm Donors — as he travels the UK in his van. Clive, who has three children with his wife and nine grandchildren, refuses payment for his service — taking a fee would be illegal.
He will happily give up a whole day to drive from his family home in Burton, Staffs, to wherever the recipients live. Once there, he parks in a nearby street, climbs in the back of the van and fills a syringe before handing over the “donation”, which he keeps warm under his arm.
Speaking to The Sun, well-spoken Clive, who does not want to give his surname, says: “I give them the syringe and will talk to them for about five to ten seconds, just make a bit of idle chit-chat. “They are often nervous and it’s just a way of putting them at ease.
“I know this is probably unusual but for me, by doing it in the van there is far less involvement, less emotional attachment.”
Clive, one of four donors featured in the documentary, is keen to keep some distance between himself and the women, who he communicates with via email several times before meeting. As he is not offering his sperm via a Government-approved Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority-licensed clinic, he could be deemed the legal parent. He hopes using the van will help mitigate any claims he is anything more than a donor.
Clive adds: “I also know, technically, if any of the ladies ever wanted to report me to the Child Support Agency in the future, they could nail me for 18 years for child payments.
“This has never happened but it is another reason why I use my van.”
He insists the sole reason he provides the service is to help others. But it is clear he gets a kick out of further populating the planet. He says: “I am so proud to have fathered 79 children. I love the joy it brings. So many people say, ‘Thank you so much, Clive, you really have changed our lives’.
“That, for me, is why I do it. It’s special. I wanted to help their plight because I love children so much.”
Clive become a sperm donor in 2013 but the idea started playing on his mind about ten years ago when he read the stories of others. Clive says he “felt sorry for the recipients and had the time to do it”.
He says he was initially concerned that, becoming a donor in his late-fifties, his sperm might not be any use. Research suggests sperm quality can deteriorate after the age of 35, and there is a higher risk of conditions such as autism. He looked into donating via a clinic but none he found would accept anyone over 45.
Clive adds: “Then I put an ad on Facebook. I am a healthy man. I am into mountain biking and am very active. I have no long-term medical conditions that I know of.
“My father had a brain tumour and I’m always up front with people about that if they ask me if there is any history of illness in my family.” Clive also provides paperwork of STI checks for anyone who asks. After his posting on Facebook, he was inundated with messages from interested women. He says: “About two thirds of the people I have helped are same-sex couples. The others are heterosexual couples and a few are single ladies.
“I am not strict and I do believe every lady deserves to have a baby.
“All I am doing is helping. I have always insisted on artificial insemination. I know some donors advertise this but it turns out they want sex.
“I have had several people turn around to me and say, ‘Crikey, Clive, it is so nice to meet a normal person’.”
On average he makes 16 donations a month but only a couple tend to lead to a pregnancy. Clive says: “I get down when nothing happens. One month I can have no results and the next I can have four pregnancies.
“But I know clinics offer only a one-in-eight chance — as well as charging around £6,000 — so I have to keep reminding myself of this.”
If his donation does end in failure, he returns a few weeks later with another. He has never felt nervous handing over the donations nor felt any emotional attachment. He says: “I’d say a third of the children I have fathered happened the first time; the next third the second or third time and the rest will have taken up to six donations.
“When I first set out I did wonder if I would feel anything. You never know how the emotional side is going to play out."
“You wonder if you will start to think that they are your children and will you want access. But I have never had any of these feelings.”
That said, he admits he does see “five or six” of the children he has helped bring into the world. He adds: “I’ve got a lot of friends on Facebook and I can see photos on there. They usually send a photo and update every year too.
“Three weeks ago I called to a place outside Liverpool to see two of the children. One was the very first success I had five years ago. I pop by every six months or so.
“The mums know that as their children grow up, they will turn around after they’ve had sex education and ask them about how it all happened. They plan to say, ‘Well, you can guess who it is — it’s that daft Clive who comes around’.”