Here are the hard facts: we’re going to be the first generation of kids to end up significantly poorer than our parents. Being a pioneer isn’t always champagne and rose petals.

There’s been a lot of hating on the Baby Boomers recently and with some recourse. It’s argued by people far smarter than me that the indulgence and excess of our former free-loving parents is directly responsible for the economic crisis we’re now deeply embroiled in. Without any further research, I’m content to point the finger of blame that way. * It seems our parents fucked us all, one way or another. At least we’re now granted the only legitimate excuse outside of our barely rebellious teen years to scream “I HATE YOU, MUM AND DAD”. Life really is unfair.

As if the errors of history don’t weigh down on us heavy enough, we now have, for all intents and purposes, a Tory government to administer sudden death syndrome to our hardly conceived dreams. So heavy handed and determined are the Tories in their hatred of creativity and society, that anyone currently working in, or with a desire to go into, the public sector or arts is going to face a good portion of their young adult years either in abject poverty or hating their life. How exciting.

While there is fair reason to piss our pants about it all day long, there may be solutions for the more adventurous among us. Our parents may have ruined our shot at the future and the government may resent the left side of our brains, but we still have our bodies and we can do whatever we wish with them. Desperate times, desperate measures, so it’s to the body we turn to start generating the capital our non-existent careers can’t.

Below are a few suggestions you can experiment with in order to eek a little extra cash money from your own skin, bones and seminal fluid.

*there’s a far more complex argument to be thrashed out here, but I’ll leave that to  Twitter.

If I’d meant prostitution, I would have written PROSTITUTION, dummy. Escorting is a totally legit way of utilising god given fuckable looks to make dollar. You don’t even need to be attractive.

Do you know how many fat, ugly, lonely successful people there are in the world? Literally hundreds. You can exploit these wrinkly spinsters and sweaty bachelors by signing up to some classy agency like Grosvenor Girls or Deja Vu and then pick off the particularly rich and needy among their client list. Like taking candy from a business man dressed as a baby.

There’s absolutely no risk involved in this at all. All old weird people who want to pay to pretend to ‘date’ people half their age are entirely harmless. No one ever got hurt selling their body, but they do get free clothes and dinners and fake tits and orgasms. Lots of orgasms.

Hey, you’ve got two livers and an eBay account, right? Don’t be greedy, share the wealth. Out there in the dead eyed land of celebrity, there’s a thousand strong line of pickled livingdead corpses crying out for replacement insides, rolls of crisp bills flailing wildly in their graying, desperate hands. Can you afford to deny the world that? Can you afford to deny yourself that?

You’ve got a brain, so use it, stupid! For 90 minutes of lying your head down under a giant camera you’ll be paid £22, be given a cool Facebook profile picture and be afflicted with only a mild head ache. Can you name a single photobooth in the world that pays you, has a bed and shows you what the inside of your face looks like? Exactly. That you’re only allowed to get your brain scanned every 3 months shouldn’t be a worry. Your brain is massive and you hardly use any of it. Let them poisonous radiowaves burn away the lazy-ass gray matter that does fuck all anyway. Lighten your fat head, give your neck a little respite and your pocket a little change.

I went to Uni with a straight-up guy who did medical experiments every summer to pay his way through higher education. He was never short of weed, so it must have been effective. Apart from his yellowing skin, rotted finger nails and passion for Alice In Chains, he was a picture of health, too. And it makes sense really, as he was getting check-ups from some of the most advanced student doctors in Liverpool every other day. That’s way more medical attention than even Michael Jackson had. I think he’s got a job at Sellafield now.

Let’s face it, you’re not having children. Even if you master all of the above suggestions, you’re not going to be able to look after a child based on an income derived from a life of vice and medical experiments. You’ll barely be able to walk. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t leave a legacy.

Giving away your juices is the best way of becoming a parent without having to either a) give up the Taste the Difference range or b) be hated by your offspring. What’s more, unless you’re Irish or a latter day ODB, it’s unlikely that, given the opportunity to procreate, you’d be able to produce more than one or two heirs to your shitty throne anyway. Donors don’t have such worries, just endless guilt-free orgasms.

Male donors are allowed to cum into a jar up to 50 times every 6 months and get paid ‘expenses’ each time for the privilege. Dude, I know you’re doing it more than that a week just getting off on sniffing your sister’s bra, so why not get paid for being a pervert? It’s worth noting, however, ‘expenses’ include such things as childcare and loss of earnings, so you might want to lie a little about how much of a big shot you are on your application.

Just be careful to not start acting like a total creep when you hit your forties. You could accidentally slip one to your own kid and break that final taboo that’s been repressing society all this time.