So you think I’m good at this, you know talking about XXY, Klinefelter’s syndrome, and sex in general?

Do I NEED your support, sorry no. I have learned to live life alone, I don’t NEED anybody!

It’s probably a bad thing being self reliant, resourceful, talented, intelligent, need I go on?

If someone gets an honour from the Queen of England does it come before that persons professional title or after? Like Dame Margret Sparrow, is she Dame Dr, or Dr Dame?

More than just I am confused about that. If you’re a Sir, your wife if she’s female automatically becomes a Dame. But if you’re a Dame, like my aunt Dame Dorothy Fraser, her husband didn’t automatically become a Sir, is that weird or what?

Anyway I met Dame Dr Margret Sparrow at the old Wainuiomata College in the mid 1970’s. She was giving a talk on SEX, Sex Education precisely. Of course I thought I knew it all, I had an O Level in Human Biology, of course I knew it all, and I was young enough to say so! 🙂 The only thing I can remember of the talk was going into the School Hall, parents were separated form their offspring so that when the ‘group discussions’ started family members were not together.

A talk about sex and that’s all I can remember! That must have been 1975. It’s amazing how thoughts get concentrated by certain events at a certain time of life. 1975 was a nothing. Life began for real in 1976:

My Karyotype

I’m not the only XXY man who’s met Dr Dame Margret Sparrow. Both these two have met her too:

Michael Noble  & David Strachan XXY

And if you click on the this link you’ll be taken to the article they’re both mentioned in, or co-authored, or something? It’s all very interesting how all the same names pop up as the old groups fade away, and the new groups form. New people coming forward to espouse their curious understanding of genetics and endocrine disease are very rare.

Here is David Strachan again associated with AIC & Mani Mitchell, a few years later, just recently actually, promoting the Intersexions documentary, full of absolute drivel from the XXY men featured in it:
David Strachan & Mani Mitchell

What else besides being XXY do these two have in common, they both think they’re intersex, and they’re both homosexual. Gavan Coleman says he’s intersex too, does that get you wondering? Of course I say sexuality has nothing to do with chromosomes, or genes, or genetic influence, it’s all about choice. People who NEED to justify their CHOICES, NEED a genetic argument. They’ll have to look elsewhere, maybe it’s on an autosome, the homosexual gene?

Maybe it’s one of the genes predicted to be functioning on the inactivated X? I do say it’s outrageous to assume all XXY men have the exact same active genes functioning on the inactivated X, so why can’t this gene that causes homosexuality be on the inactivated X, or the activated X, or the Y? 😛 So is the homosexual gene for XY males on their mothers X, as we know they got their Y from their father! Do XXY men who claim they’re intersex, and are homosexual, KNOW for certain which parent provided their other X? I can’t say ‘inactivated X’ in this instance as it may be a gene on the active X, who knows?

I think I know, considering the number of boys in puberty who approached me for sex at Fernlea School, and Parkway Intermediate, and it was very enjoyable too, and later at Hendon Senior High School in London. Having sex with boys is definitely something all boys do, it’s just a part of life. Absolutely normal sexual behaviour.

You can always search the parents websites all over the internet, where ‘worried’ parents ask questions about masturbation, and seek justification for punishing their boys they caught masturbating with other boys! I wonder why they just don’t think back to their own puberty to know why boys do such things? It’s really enjoyable! Later, when girls become available, masturbating with them is really enjoyable too! As Quentin Crisp once said “Intercourse is a poor substitute for masturbation.”

From the DVD “Bad Education

Gee, I wonder if these boys were XXY too? 😛 Of course this is a fictional story, but I’m sure there must be some reason the original author included it in his film?

Discourse of Contradiction

I suppose the problem for XXY men really is they don’t have the facilities mentally to ask questions when they’re confused.

“The New Zealand Klinefelter Association (NZKA) was also established by the parents of sex chromosome variant children and adults born with at least one additional ‘sex’ chromosome.*”
Michael Noble – Representations of Klinefelter Syndrome (unpublished) – page 2

The NZKA was established by me and my then wife. End of story. Get facts, try hard!

[You see this here Michael, your little astrix note “* When referring to the additional chromosomes, I will refer to them as ‘sex’ chromosomes for convenience sake in order to distinguish them from other chromosomes.

Here’s some news for you, THERE ARE ONLY SEX CHROMOSOMES, all the rest are called AUTOSOMES. I can go in to detail as to why that is, but I think it will go way over your head. You need to research it for yourself. You NEED to edit your unpublished document, you make yourself look like a fool.]

I had assistance from CCS (formerly known as the Crippled Childrern’s Society), and various other professionals in the field of psychology and education, all the names of which escape me at this particular moment. Verna C. Raab, Educational Psychologist, from Canada, her best friend involved in some kind of secretarial work at Tairawheti Polytechnic, Veronica somebody? Other people too. Inland Revenue, they helped me write the Deed of Trust, the document that governed what we did and how we did it. So it had to be written as all inclusively as possible, without breaching the rules. You try doing that Michael Noble, write a thesis on it, see how far you get!

It was really hard to get people involved anyway, XXY men are generally unreliable, the parents of the boys are generally one eyed, the boys are too young. At the time we got going, we weren’t a charity, we were just a bunch of talented individuals, and there was only 1 XXY guy who was the driving force. I only know of 1 XXY guy who’s ever been a driving force, most of the rest are just groaning, moaning, lazy, miserable, little bastards!

It’s really hard work establishing a charity in New Zealand. Not that Michael Noble has ever attempted anything of the sort himself. He’s way too busy writing shit about people from his position of complete ignorance!

Helen, somebody, her son was the boy with Prader-Willi too, she was excellent help. One of the best parents of an XXY boy I’ve ever met, anywhere.

I couldn’t give a toss then, or now, what your sexuality is, what your gender is, who you fuck Michael Noble, it’s not important. You’re not important. You don’t have and never did have educational difficulty. You’re not a child missing out on an education, you never were. It’s the next generation that is important, getting them diagnosed early, they might even have sperms that can be collected and stored, if they’re found early? But you don’t give a shit about them do you, all you bullshit artists only care about yourselves, your gender expression, and your sexuality.

“Five years later, the NZKA Board changed the organisation’s name to the New Zealand Sex Chromosome Society (NZSCS) because, over the years, the Association had embraced other sex chromosome conditions such as Turners and Fragile X.”
Michael Noble – Representations of Klinefelter Syndrome (unpublished) – page 2

In reality we had to change our Deed of Trust to incorporate all the things we were doing that we were technically not allowed to do, according to law! Since we were always an information group, providing information first and foremost, not a support group, it seemed to the Board a logical step to do. Any information about Fragile X or X0 you don’t need to know, they’re not your sex and not your gender! They appreciate information. That you don’t appreciate them getting information just goes to show how selfish you are, and what I did with my time, and my money, was my business. Being questioned by some Australian git who wasn’t even a member, nor took the time to write an introduction, is hardly likely to be taken seriously.

“The Klinefelter community initially established these web pages for the purpose of distilling complex scientific literature into easily understood or popular narratives, while providing communication services for the discussion of issues relevant to the Klinefelter/XXY communities. They have achieved this, either by lobbying medical facilities and specialists into publishing popular information booklets and articles, or non-medical members have published their own articles based on their interpretation of the scientific literature.”
Michael Noble – Representations of Klinefelter Syndrome (unpublished) – page 2

We achieved something did we Michael Noble, that’s so good of you to say so. I got on TV, I did a huge amount, and EVERYTHING published on our website that was not OPINION, was vetted by John W Delahunt, Endocrinologist, or Johannes Nielsen, Researcher. It was medical data put in layman’s terms. We had a unique website. It was brilliant. There was no ‘patient or Board Member interpretation of medical literature’ it was all medical interpretation, thanks for asking!

The booklet “Understanding Klinefelter’s Syndrome – a Guide for XXY males and their families.” I’m the driving force behind the publication of that in New Zealand too. I still needed and got other people’s assistance, like Robert Bock the author, who almost made me reproduce it here. Unlike your crap there’s no copyright on it, it’s royalty free. So off you go smart arse, let’s see you do one for Australia. It will cost money and I won’t be lifting a finger to support you. Any one of you wankers out there who think you can do better are free to try. All you have to do is raise the money to pay for it, that should be a breeze as you’re so clever.

“….Rather, it is an attempt to undertake a very general socio-linguistic survey of the medical and popular discourses, in order to examine the representation of Klinefelter Syndrome/ XXY, and briefly link the discourses to issues such as the representation of sex, gender, sexuality and identity….”
Michael Noble – Representations of Klinefelter Syndrome (unpublished) – page 3

The above is the reason for Michael Noble’s paper, which is basically asserting his sexuality and the sexuality of other XXY men who claim they’re intersex, on the basis of their collective lies about their individual treatment, as if their lies were indicative of treatment over all. Michael Noble says he knows nothing of the therapy options, and it is his idea that one needs a University Degree in order to comment, attempting to shut down debate, like many of his crackpot colleagues.

His over-riding idea is that XXY is a different sex all together, and that testosterone they naturally produce is all they need. That he actually took, and probably still does take, testosterone therapy had to be worked around. In his blog he claims he ‘reduced’ his hormone therapy. The fact of the matter is he can’t assert XXY is a sex in it’s own right, and the level of testosterone produced is ‘normal’ and take ANY amount of exogenous testosterone, or he becomes a hypocrite.

Footnote on page 7 of his ‘paper’

“According to British law, physicians do not have to disclose details of medical techniques, nor the pharmacological operation of drug therapy: rather they are only required to provide information on the ‘goals and general nature of the treatment or drug’(Dickens 1982, p.238).He explains that physicians can resort to the ‘therapeutic privilege’ of non-disclosure in relation to procedures such as the administration of testosterone using intermuscular injections, in order to avoid having to account for their actions if they believe that the patient or parents may not comprehend the technical details of such therapies.”
Michael Noble – Representations of Klinefelter Syndrome (unpublished) – page 7

Michael Noble lives in Australia and I live in New Zealand, and what the British do is their business. I’ve not changed anything of his drivel, in fact here’s a screen shot, you can see they’re the same:

Noble drivel

This idiot has a University Degree by the way, but he can’t spell, even I know it’s ‘intramuscular’ but he’s so arrogant he didn’t bother getting his writings checked by a medical specialist before he released it for viewing. I can’t say ‘published’ even though for me to have a copy it must be ‘published’ but this is Michael Noble’s brain in action. Now you can also see this is an ‘updated’ version, from 2010, so if he knew so much about testicular volume and growth of XXY boys’ balls, how come he ignored this author, Ratcliffe 1999: an author he does refer to earlier in his ‘paper!’

XXY's balls

When crackpots like Michael Noble get an idea in their head, the last thing they want to do is include information that contradicts it.

I am more than happy to change what I teach as new information comes to hand. Such as I used to teach my balls were 1mL in volume at 17, and never were any bigger. However the likelihood of that being true is now zero, they must have enlarged at least a little in order for me to have that “good penile and scrotal development” and for me to have to wait for therapy, until my doctor was satisfied I had testicular failure:


Michael Noble never includes excerpts from his medical record, and never proves anything he says of himself, his therapy, his dealings with the medical profession. He just makes outrageous statements that look good to the intersex crowd.


The Mission

On with the mission. – (This is from 1971 – Granddad had been dead for a few months) – The only thing that had ever come out of my penis before then was pee. In Science I was learning that if the conditions of a liquid changed then the liquid can become a gas, or a solid. Well what about something between solid and liquid? What about Sticky? So as heat was involved in my first discovery, and as heat was involved in my second discovery, heat must be the catalyst. That seemed logical to me. If I heat my pee up it will turn into this sticky stuff. That was the Theory.

Proving it is going to be difficult. Just being in the house on my own was a mission all of itself. For some reason nobody trusted me. Well maybe that’s stretching the truth just a little? There were some excellent reasons why nobody trusted me.

  • Like; arriving at school with a coloured piece of paper, that happened to be a large value bank note!
  • Like; losing my underpants at school and not knowing where I put them. I still don’t know where they went, must have fallen off! I had my shorts though, what was the big concern? Maybe I forgot to put them on before I left for school?
  • Like; being found with a leg of lamb under my arm, in bed. I guess I got up for a midnight snack? I just nodded off before I took it back to the fridge.
  • Like; growing several apples trees outside my bedroom window, from the apples I’d half eaten. I was good at gardening even back then, before I knew anything about Horticulture.
  • Like; climbing in through my parents bedroom window, directly under live power lines. I was at least 2 feet away, what harm could I come to?
  • 149 wainuiomata rd

    There was to be a school trip to Picton, and for once my mother wasn’t going, she had something else on, so I took advantage of it. Before then, watch this:

    Exactly the same thing happened to me, except I didn’t have any “Sex Ed.” I had to work it out for myself, and not very well. I saw a Maori woman on TV, no idea about what the programme was about, and I dreamed about her, and it was weird. I dreamed about other people too, and they weren’t in that TV programme. I woke up – and the dream really should have gone on, where the dreamed ended wasn’t the exciting bit. I thought I’d wet myself again. This was getting a bit much, this isn’t on, this is not fair, at all, I’m being cheated out of my dreams, and something’s making me wet myself, but not with pee!

    You can see how my attention is being grabbed. I had to find out what this was, and it could have all been settled if my dad had VOLUNTEERED the answer. He KNEW what was happening, he must have, and he said NOTHING.


    First on the left is Murray, in 1971, this is the school trip to Picton, I’m not in this photograph, we weren’t even in the same class anymore. That’s how long I had to wait to execute my plan, about a year, and for all that time I’d not gained any new information, even after what was supposed to be “Sex Education.

    So I got back from the trip to Picton and nobody was home, as I expected. Again I climbed through that open window under the power lines. It worked the first time, no reason it won’t work a second. I got out one of my mothers cooking pots, peed in it, and set it on the stove to heat it up. I hadn’t considered the smell, so I opened a few windows. I had that pee boiling for at least 5 minutes and it didn’t change one little bit! What had I forgotten? This was a complete disaster. A total failure.

    I turned the stove off and tipped the pee down the sink. I got a Tea Towel and wiped the inside of the pot, I didn’t think it needed washing as it didn’t look dirty. Hung the Tea Towel up, put the pot away, closed the windows, and left, through the window. I had to get back to Parkway Intermediate to be picked up to be taken back to where I was, I was supposed to wait at Parkway after we got back from Picton – but I detoured.

    Talking about Puberty

    In New Zealand schools today sex is a subject from year 1 to year 8 (I think?) maybe it’s 9? Yes New Zealand has succumbed to international pressure to organise schools in a more uniform fashion. I think that was a policy of David Lange, former NZ Prime Minister. I don’t approve. I like the old system. New Entrants, Primmers, Standards, Forms. That’s the way it used to be.

    When I was at Primary school sex wasn’t taught at all. There was an experiment I think in Form 1 at Parkway Intermediate (middle school, intermediates are still classified as primary schools) to incorporate some sex education, but it was all about girls, it was pretty boring.

    My friend Malcolm and I sat at the back of the class chatting about fishing. Until one of the imported tutors mentioned something about sperm. That caught our attention. Mrs Forde at Fernlea School showed us how male frogs spread sperm over the eggs to fertilise them and make new frogs. So this class was about how to make new people.

    It went like this, I think it’s about right:

    “If the egg is not fertilised by the sperm the egg and the lining are evacuated from the woman’s body.”

    Maybe they didn’t use the word ‘evacuated’ but whatever word it was, it meant that.

    Malcolm to Graeme “How does the sperm get in there?”

    Graeme to Malcolm “I dunno.” shrug shoulders

    Malcolm to Graeme “Well, ask them!”

    Graeme to Malcolm “You wanna know you ask them.”

    Malcolm to Graeme “I’m not asking them, you ask them.”

    Graeme to Malcolm “We’ll listen a bit more, they might tell us, we won’t have to ask them.”

    Malcolm to Graeme “Good idea.” Thumbs up!

    I suppose what Mrs Forde did was like sex education, but she wasn’t a qualified teacher and none of her classes were on the curriculum. She was the last option when it came to finding a teacher for the worst behaving class at Fernlea School. Even the girls were a handful for any normal teacher. We had teachers that stayed for about a week, or less. It was bedlam, and I’m not kidding. I think my last school report from Fernlea School was filled out by 6 different teachers! The Headmaster doesn’t normally take class.

    Then these imported tutors went on and on and on and on and on about girl stuff, it was just drivel! There was nothing interesting at all. We could have chatted about fishing the whole lesson and missed nothing, oh except for the sperm remark.

    Where does sperm come from?

    How does the sperm get into the woman?

    You’d think that MIGHT be covered in Sex Education! 😛

    Back in Fernlea School when puberty began I was, ‘well endowed.’ That how they say it eh! The boys had competitions to see who had the biggest penis. It was a regular event. There was only two of us who started puberty, that we could see, in our Standard, and I just happened to have more of everything, length, girth and hair. The other boy, Malcolm had no hair. And all the other boys had no development at all, a couple of them didn’t even have a whole penis, they looked weird and they looked like they knew they looked weird. I don’t even know why they joined in, unless it was the same reason I joined in, to see what was happening? They were like my cousins, a striped naked penis at the end of it. I now know that called circumcised. This was sex education, Fernlea School style.

    Of course I didn’t know it was called a penis. I didn’t know what balls were called either, or the bag they were in. I had absolutely no knowledge at all, and neither did anybody else in our Standard, or if they did know they weren’t letting on. Apparently it’s up to parents to teach children these basic facts. The names of the body parts. What the hell is difficult about that?

    Years later I was chatting to my mother at her house, I was living somewhere in Wellington, she was having some sort of dinner party and I just dropped in, unexpectedly. She seemed happy to see me, the feeling wasn’t mutual. Anyway she was chatting about how she taught us all about sex. What a joke! Anyway it turns out that her plan was to be completely honest. When we asked questions she would answer them truthfully. Then she added, “but Graeme never asked any questions!” Oh shit!

    It was always my fault, everything that ever went wrong was my fault. Who was the parent? Who had all the knowledge? Who had nothing? Figure it out this is not difficult. Oh for fucks sake. What about dad? He was never there, he was working, overseas. I have post cards from him instructing me on how to behave. Parenting by postcard! That’s a novel approach. Parents have a lot to do with all this shit you know!

    Anyway on with my account, talking about Puberty.

    When Malcolm saw I had hair he wanted a closer look. He invited me to go swimming with him one Saturday afternoon when I was out riding my bike. We didn’t have towels or togs, but that was no big deal, that was how we always swam in the local river. I never could quite understand that, at the river we swam naked, but at the pool we had to wear togs, why? In Wainuiomata they were all the same people going to different places. It makes no sense at all. Anyway It was not uncommon for us to swim naked so I had no clue swimming was not the only thing on Malcolm’s mind.

    This is when I discovered I did not have the biggest penis, he was impressive. I was ‘gob smacked’ that phrase has nothing to do with oral sex. I was speechless. I had never seen such a big and bald scrotum & penis. He wanted me to masturbate him – of course I had no idea what masturbation was either, well not in words anyway. I knew how to do it I just didn’t know what it was called, and I didn’t know anybody else did it until that moment. Anyway I didn’t masturbate him as a car load of other people arrived at the river, and here was us fully erect trying desperately to get our clothes on before we were seen. It was terrifying.

    A short time later, clothed, we met up again, and I said “Do you want me to rub you now?” “Oh no” he said, “I’ve finished.” 😛

    At the time I looked like this, facially:


    But that was just the first ‘incident’ there were plenty more with other boys, because when it gets out you have hair and nobody else has hair, everybody wants a ‘look see’ when there is no sex education, I think? That’s my theory.

    Girls start puberty before boys so they didn’t want to have a look, they knew what pubic hair looked like.

    Back to Parkway Intermediate:

    At the end of their little talk, that went all afternoon, the imported tutors said “If you have any questions wait here and we’ll answer them.”

    There’s our queue, we’ve been waiting all afternoon for this moment, to ask our questions. We agreed that we both put our hands up and the boy who was selected by the imported tutors would be the one to ask the questions. Boys are smart, that was a perfect compromise.

    It was like all the girls didn’t hear a bloody thing. Asking about the lining, the egg release, the ovaries, the thinaggmy tubes, there were dozens of them, girls that is. Why did they bother going, don’t they pay attention? I could recite what they were told verbatim almost.

    Those imported tutors just didn’t want to let boys ask questions. I had one of them lined up in my sights, I’d made perfect eye contact, she knew I wanted to ask a question, and she picked a girl.

    This went on and on and on, with Malcolm too, they would not let us boys ask our questions. It was really frustrating. Totally annoying. Eventually we gave up. So it wasn’t in 1970 we discovered where sperm came from, and how it got into the woman.

    There were going to be a few more years of waiting, and if I were fertile, I’d have been a father several times over!