Metrosexual

Let's jump back to my teenage years. But let's not stay there long, as they were awful.

It's the start of the 2000s, I'd just started attending a college and, to say the least, was socially pretty awkward. Also, pretty broke. Often my school lunchtimes were spent in the college library scouring the Media Guardian for job ads for which I would inevitably fail to be qualified.

The Metro was and remains a weird little beast. A free London paper halfway between the National Enquirer and those local papers which are half articles about protesting parks closure and half full page ads for sex clubs and chatlines.

The Metro was a little lax about its advertising policies back then and so accordingly also had ads for sex chatlines, 'Gentlemen's Clubs', dubious psychics - all things good for a giggle. They also had one for sperm donation.

Now this is enough to make a broke student stop giggling. I may not have been qualified for much, I did know one thing - I had sperm, lots of it. And they were offering something like £20 a time!

Picture the dream life of a student - one feels horny so gets on a tube to London Bridge (for this is where the advert said they were based), wanks oneself off, and collects £20 for the pleasure. And if you're a student as horny and unsatisfied as I was, payment could range into three figures a day. The high life indeed.

Well, this remained nothing beyond a dream. I realised perhaps selling sperm wasn't the most illustrious way to start a career, and forgetting the whole notion I went back to bedroom socks and non-payment. Well, not quite forgetting - there were a few self-inflicted orgasms around that time after which I thought "Well, that could have been £20". Thankfully this stocktaking soon passed.

No, the whole idea was forgotten - until…