Fags, clones and a stalker's offer

The moment renegade fertility specialists Panayiotis Zavos and Severino Antinori announced their plan to clone humans at a secret location, Californian entrepreneur Andre Crump spotted a business opportunity. "What's going to happen when you've got 100 clinics in 30 countries?" he asks. "Illegal cloning, that's what."

"It's almost a no-brainer," he adds, cheerfully. "Cloning will be as feasible as in vitro fertilisation. Some people will reproduce themselves. That's obviously foreseeable. But what's more foreseeable is that people will clone others. Who will they clone?"

Stars, of course. In a culture that worships celebrity, obsessed fans, stalkers perhaps, might clone their own supermodel, movie idol or sports hero. Crump conjures up a surreal scenario where fans acquire DNA samples by filching their wine glasses, even surreptitiously scratching their skin during a handshake. Others might gather star DNA from cigarette butts or telephone receivers.

Until Dr Zavos, an American, and Dr Antinori, an Italian, confirmed their plan to start cloning humans, defying European authorities, Crump's bizarre vision would have seemed more suited to a sci-fi movie than the marketplace. Now, he insists, "it's almost inevitable that this type of behaviour will take place." Illicit DNA samples, he suggests, might be sent to clandestine cloning clinics. The results may provoke celebrity chaos. He envisages a future world where replica Claudia Schiffers compete in beauty pageants or a 19-year-old "Madonna" clone might usurp an ageing Material Girl.

It's an eccentric fear, but one which he hopes to capitalise on to make money, for Crump is offering a solution to nervous superstars fearful of cloned rivals: copyright protection for our DNA profiles. While scientists and politicians dither about the ethics of cloning, Crump has launched the DNA Copyright Institute, a small start-up that operates from a San Francisco office suite. And while cloning remains a dicey business - it took several hundred failed attempts to create Dolly the sheep - the DNACI website warns darkly "that the probability of DNA theft will increase exponentially".

But not to worry. For a mere $1,500, the DNACI will formally copyright your DNA profile so that it can't be duplicated in printed, electronic, photographic, biological or any as yet unknown form. Anyone who replicates humans without permission will have violated internationally recognised copyright, or so Crump hopes.

The institute promises to take samples of a client's DNA profile - obtained by wiping a swab across the inside of the cheek - at approved clinics, then store the results in a centralised database. The client's identity is confirmed by a driver's licence, tax number, birth certificate or passport.

Crump claims to have enlisted 10 clients so far, though he declines to name any of them. He reckons, rather brashly perhaps, that he will recruit "several thousand" more, mostly celebrities. He makes it sound like one of those essential star needs, like limo service or personal trainers.

While he can't prevent stars being cloned, Crump thinks he can give legal leverage. "Of course you wouldn't pursue the clone," he says. "They would be individuals with human rights who didn't ask to be made a clone. You'll pursue the person who commissioned, or performed, the cloning."

Which suggests heaven-sent, or perhaps laboratory-sent, opportunities for lawyers, supposing cloning cases ever get to court. Crump's vision is fraught with legal confusion. " Copyright extends to works of human authorship," says David Nimmer, a Los Angeles copyright expert. "DNA, being a work of divine authorship, is not subject to copyright protection." Other lawyers agree. "These people are barking up the wrong tree," opines Stephen Barnett, a copyright authority at the University of California in Berkeley. "It may be that the law should prohibit cloning people without their consent, but copyright law doesn't do it."

Crump is undeterred. When he visits the US Copyright Office next month, he plans to seek copyright protection not for our DNA, but for our DNA profiles or patterns, commonly referred to as our genetic fingerprint, and increasingly used as evidence in crimes and paternity disputes. This is a clever move. Whereas DNA is common to everyone - indeed, we share up to 90 per cent of our DNA with apes - new forensic tests claim the chance of two humans with the same DNA profile is one in a trillion.

Still, it could be a long haul getting copyright protection. The DNACI is considering offering free membership to some stars for their support. What if Crump's crusade fails? "Does that mean people don't own their DNA profile?" he asks. "If we don't address this issue it will be a problem. We can't put cloning technology back in the bottle." Meanwhile, celebrities had better watch whose hand they shake.