Day 8: The Sperm Derby
Mike: Today was going to be very busy. Our first task is a new sperm test to see how the week's experiment has affected us. I have had real problems becoming aroused in the hospital 'donation' room. Porn doesn't work for me - it's just paper - neither do videos. Since I'm meant to be on honeymoon, and my new wife isn't with me, I have to rely on my imagination. Difficult when Zeron is in the next room and the film crew are outside my door.

Zeron: We arrive at the hospital to give a final sample. Having abstained for several days I was sure my volume would be up. That was the only thing I was certain of. Camera crew hanging around and Mike in the other sample room 'producing' - this was not going to be easy. At least the magazines had been changed. I was so busy thumbing through them I almost forget why I was in there (not!).

Mike: The results are OK. I produce 3.2ml total volume, with a total sperm count of 188 million. This works out to be 52 million sperm cells per millilitre. The average man ejaculates between 40 million and 60 million per millilitre with an average volume of 3ml, so I am dead average. The motility of my sperm isn't excellent at about 30% but it shows that the week's experiment seems to have worked. The weirdest thing is that although Zeron produces a lower volume he also produces 52 million sperm per millilitre with a motility of 30%. It looks like the playing field is now very level.

Zeron: The results are good. For me they are better than expected. This new sample suggests we are both on level pegging. Neither of us has the upper hand. It's all gonna be down to the how well our sperm can swim.

Mike: The race is getting closer. I try on my new hooded sweatshirt that the production team have bought me for the programme. It is green, with my name on the back of it. I don't suppose I'll be wearing it again that often.

The students arrive, half of them from Birmingham University and the other half from Aston University. They all get a free drink and one of the girls from Birmingham is soon pissed. Cool, she is supposed to be supporting Zeron. A short while later and Darrell, the compère for the night, has got the crowd fired up. He is brilliant. A short while later a couple of girls are puking in the toilets. Again they are from the Birmingham crew - who have been accused of pinching beer from my supporters from Aston. My chief fan gets going rousing the others. He's a gay lad, dressed in pink and is very, very funny.

Zeron: Inside the appropriately titled Cock Inn things are heating up for the race. A huge screen is set up at one end of the room. Darrell is working his magic with the crowd. He is the warm up man as well as the race commentator. It's obvious they love him and find him hysterically funny. They find him even funnier the more booze they have.

It soon becomes extremely apparent that Birmingham University are my supporters. I don't mind as there are far more stunning babes in this group. Alcohol flowing, crowds cheering even chanting anti-Mike or anti-Zeron slogans (depending who they were supporting). I have on my Blue hooded top with my name on the back. We see a split screen with each of our sperm indicated in - green for Mike; blue for me.

Mike: The race gets going proper. It's clear that I have more sperm cells and I clearly lead the race for the first part. Halfway through I'm still there, but Zeron is catching up. Finally, as we approach the line my 'green meanie' sperm is only a short distance ahead of Zeron's blue sperm. As the crowd hits fever pitch the blue wriggler finally catches up. It's a photo finish. The resulting image shows that Zeron's sperm cell just makes it. Bummer! I've lost - but only just.

Zeron: When the race started Darrell kept everyone on tenterhooks with his commentary. Even when it was clearly apparent that my sperm was lagging behind Mike's, Darrell kept me in the running. Then like true athletes, my sperm put on an incredible burst of speed. My fans - who had been pretty subdued up until now - suddenly came to life! The fat lady wasn't singing for Mike just yet. Against all odds they both appeared to have crossed the line at the same time: unbelievable! The photo finish was replayed on the screen and Darrell had hardly said my name when Birmingham University erupted - I had won!

This had proved Allan's prognosis. I had a low sperm count and would otherwise require fertility treatment yet I had fathered three children. Proving that it is the virility of the sperm which counts as much as the quantity. And I had fighters.

Time for one of Birmingham's famed Baltis, methinks.

Mike: We have a few drinks, non-alcoholic in my case, and watch the crowd as they still shout and sing enthusiastically at each other. They're pissed, but I'm not. It's a very funny scene to watch, but I've lost the race, and we have no fuel and nowhere to sleep. We leave the Cock Inn after a very happy evening and try to find fuel and somewhere to eat. It proves very difficult, but we finally find petrol and manage to find a Balti house that is happy to serve us at midnight. Half an hour's drive and we reach a beautiful country hotel called Brockencote Hall near Kidderminster. It's lovely. I'm drained from another sixteen-hour day, but what an amazing thing to have done - a bloody sperm race. Can you believe it?!

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Content last updated: 24/08/2005