No Gingers allowed? That’s just fine.

A recent article widely posted on the internet told the tale of the world’s biggest sperm bank, Cryos of Denmark, and their rejection of ginger sperm. As someone born with carrot coloured locks, you might think I’d be outraged.

See the blondie on the left? She cut all the hair off my ginger Kelly doll.

Meh.

The Cryos policy caused me, at best,  to cock an eyebrow – and I will tell you right now, that eyebrow has been artfully pencilled in as my natural eyebrow shade is “transparent” as it always is with gingers of the very fair variety.  And to answer the question (that I have a feeling no one is really asking), yes the carpet matches the curtains. My mother’s family is peppered with gingers running the gamut from dark coppery to fair strawberry, like myself. We are varied in appearance but united by a shared mutation on the MC1R chromosome and a knowledge that once you go red, you’ll never get out of bed.

Everything they say about gingers is true. We’re smart, sexy and can shoot fire from our often quite pale eyeballs. We are sharper than the average brunette and better in the sack than the average blonde. You’ll notice that Charlie never had a red-headed Angel*.  The reason is obvious: she’d have caught the criminal single-handedly, delivered him to the authorities wrapped up with a red bow and been sitting on Bosley’s lap, awaiting further orders from a disembodied voice while the other Angels were still in the bathroom, contemplating their total lack of endearing freckles.

Gingers are the Woody Allen** of hair and complexion: forever original and distinct while others struggle with their ordinary appearance, constantly trying to imitate all things Titian. Some of the coolest people to step on this earth are gingers: Jimmy Cagney, Katherine Hepburn, Anne bloody Margaret, Tilda freaking Swinton, that Beasley kid, and even Judas, the man who pulled the plug on the magician.

So do I feel miffed that they are rejecting ginger sperm at the bank? Do I fuck. We’re only 1-2% of the population – exclusive and unconcerned with whether or not the Plains want to drag us into their genetic pool of dishwater.

Diamonds are nice but everyone knows that rubies burn brighter.

*If it didn’t happen in the late 70′s, early 80′s, it didn’t happen.

** A ginger and the greatest living American filmmaker. Stuff the rest.