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Meet the Guy Who's Fathered 65 Kids with Sperm Donations from the Back of His Van

SourceAfter retiring from his career as a maths teachers, Clive decided he still wanted to make a difference to future generations.

And to do so, he drives up and down the country pleasuring himself in his van in front of strangers’ houses – a move that has so far resulted in 65 kids and another 14 on the way.

But he’s not a creep – he just gives his sperm away for free to help women have children.

Whereas sperm from a fertility clinic would usually cost around £6,000, Staffordshire-resident Clive gives his away for free.

Often spending an entire day on the road, he drives his van to wherever he’s needed, climbs into the back and fills a syringe with his sperm, which he keeps warm under his arm until handing it over.

“I give them the syringe and will talk to them for about five to ten seconds, just make a bit of idle chit-chat. …

He makes on average 16 donations per month but only a couple result in a pregnancy. For those that don’t work, he always returns the next month with another syringe.

But despite the fact his wife and kids are less than impressed by his personal quest, he is determined to keep going until he has 100 children.

“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,'” he explained of his motivation.

I’ve been doing a fair amount of reading lately about heroes and their journeys. Joseph Campbell’s monomyth, Jungian archetypes, writing character arcs and so on. And in almost every one of the great stories, you find that the hero had some precipitating event that causes him/her to give up a life of relative peace and comfort and put themselves at risk in order to serve the greater good. Moses discovering his true nature. Frodo coming into possession of a ring with the power to plunge his world into slavery and darkness. Luke Skywalker seeing a hologram of a princess in need. Count me among those who believes that the moment Joe Chill killed Thomas and Martha Wayne in an alley, their son became Batman. That from then on, the true mask he wore was the face of Bruce Wayne, not the black cowl.

But then, there are exceptions. Superman never knew his parents or saw his own planet. He is simply a hero because he has the power to be and it is the right thing for him to do. That’s the kind of hero Clive is.

Clive could simply sit back in his leather chair in Stafforshire, oblivious to the needs of the women looking to get pregnant. He could be deaf to their cries, leave their fates to the healthcare system and live his quiet life. But no. He puts their needs ahead of their own. Selflessly jumping behind the wheel of his Jizzmobile and rushing to their aid. When he sees and empty womb he goes to where he’s needed, rolls up his sleeve, drops his pants and does something about it. One jerk at a time. He gives and gives and gives of himself and asks nothing in return but a few minutes of awkward chit-chat and the satisfaction of knowing there’s a generation of little Clives and Clivettes who owe their very lives to his self-sacrifice.

And isn’t that ultimately what the hero’s journey is all about? Loving your fellow people more than self? Showing generosity of spirit like this? We don’t often associate 62-year-olds in the back of windowless vans parked on the street whacking it into a syringe with heroism. But in Clives case, it definitely is. I don’t know any other way to put this, but you’ve got to admire his spunk. Best of luck to him getting to that lucky 100. And just remember what they say, if you love what you do, you never have to work a day in your life.