The Super Villain Lair of Preference

villain layer 1

Having established the strong possibility that I run on the villainous side of life, I started wondering if my current set-up really reflected the ‘true’ me. The first step for any self-respecting serious arch-nemesis is establishing a sufficiently intimidating hidden base.

The problem being the obvious choices are so passé and bothersome: the moon-base that no visitors can reach, the volcano where every rumble raises the question ‘is it really extinct?’, the under-the-sea-cave that springs a leak very time there is the slightest earth tremor, the dessert island where you have to supply your own booby-traps or the concrete bunker that won’t get wifi.

No, all of these lack what the new age of super-villain demands today. We need amenities. We need to be close to parks where we can walk the hounds of hell, a choice of schools for our darling spawn of evil, space where our minions can have some well-deserved R&R after a hard day trying to take over the world.

To this end, I give you the Shopping Centre.

As a member of the commercial community you can harness synergies to bring down costs while increasing productivity.

  • A prebuilt unit, constructed under consultation with top security advisers, means a rotating shift of as few as five henchmen will be required to maintain security.
  • Henchmen can be registered as private contractors rather than employees, saving on annual Christmas Party
  • Booby traps can be accounted for as capital investment in the property and therefore registered as a tax deductible at the year end
  • Minions can avail of the new Corporate Training Hub registering for such courses as
    • Villainy: The Law and You
    • Shoot-Out First Aid for Beginners
    • “You’ve Been Framed”: What Should You Do Now?

“But won’t everyone see my operation and nefarious plotting?” I hear you ask.

No, with their fully customizable store front, the public will pass unaware of the scheming within. Any hero who should pass the door will have to navigate such horrors as ‘helpful assistants’, ‘disorientating lighting’, ‘a clawing stench’, ‘customer selfie sticks’ and ‘constantly moving stock’ before they breach the first line of defense.

The future is now. The future is a destination whose catchment area reaches well beyond the Pale. The future is The Shopping Centre.

Villain Lair 2

What to buy the newborn that has everything?


First things first, and let’s get this out in the open, we’re among friends here, it’s always nice to get a present – any present.

This article is not about gift giving – it’s about the moment later on when I think to myself, “What about me possessed the giver to bequeath unto me this item?” And, “Why did my friend think the one thing I needed in my life was .. [insert noun here] : oversized jumper, set of perfumes, half a flipper set, a purple toaster, three quarters of a dairy milk – whatever?”

This article is not so much about giving gifts, as it is about receiving them and, in particular, receiving gifts as a new parent. A new parent often has enough going on in their lives without having to work through all the iterations of analysis to understand what the presents mean, and what they are supposed to do with them. So to make things easier for all of you I have compiled a list:

1. Food

The best present you can get new parents really hinges on one question: when are you likely to see the young* couple post-birth? If you are one of the select few who are likely to see them at home in the first few weeks following the birth, then there is only one gift to bring – food that either cooks itself or has minimal effort attached.

By this I mean a homemade lasagne that can be microwaved; store-bought or pre-packaged prepared meals that only need to be thrown in the oven for an hour; a pre-washed and prepared salad with two slabs of meat that just need to be grilled. Basically anything that will give the new parents the sense of a hearty homecooked meal with minimal time and effort.

2. Sophie and Calgel

Food aside, this is the next best present: one is an overpriced piece of rubber and the other is illegal in this country, but together they represent all your teething-problem solutions. The Calgel numbs the pain and is suitable from six months and over (other teething products in this country are only recommended from around two years and over); while Sophie the giraffe is chewable from all angles and easily washed after being flung across the room. These items are essential to ease the pain of emerging teeth.

3. Pre-washed teddy / blanket / accessory

Very few new parents have the time or interest to exchange or return gifts, so there is no need to leave the tags on. Anything that goes against a baby’s skin or into their mouth needs to be washed before use. God knows if the item was lying on some rat infested factory floor before being packaged, shipped and sold, so unless you know exactly where it’s been the whole time, it needs to be washed.

Pop anything you buy into a 30 degree slow-spin wash with some non-bio detergent and stick a label on it to let the mum know that you have done so. That way the baby will be able to use it straight away. Not only have you given a great gift, but you also have not caused extra laundry – kudos to you.

4. Handmade clothes from natural fabrics

Not all babies come out standard sized…. stick with me. Some have long legs, others short arms, others short torsos, some big heads. Mostly it’s not noticeable (especially in the start when all babies wear are baby-grows, cardigans and hats), but eventually, when you have rolled the sleeves up for the millionth time, or had to cut the feet out of every baby-grow, then you start to wish you could get clothes that actually fit your young one. This is where handmade clothes come into their own – knitted cardigans that are long enough in the body but shorter in the arms, crocheted jumpers that have wide necks that can stretch over a head easily. Check out Grandma Knits For Baby on Etsy for a great selection (shameless plug, but honestly totally worth it).

5. Bibs & Dribblers

It is not possible to have enough of these. Babies are constantly emitting some sort of drool, snot, vomit, sick-up, what-have-you. Gifting someone 20 or 30 of these is not excessive – although I warn you the soft ones are only sold in packs of three, which makes them pricey little buggers. Comedy ones are cute, but easy to get on and off Velcro ones are the overall winner here. (Plus, comedy might be a strong word for these greeting card witticisms.) Wash as above before gifting for extra points.

6. Style appropriate outfits

Be it your style or the parents style; rockers get Megadeath t-shirts, county fans get a plaid shirt, ravers get neon pants with led lights on the bum (people who are too young to remember these social categories, even vaguely, are too young to be having kids). These little outfits are cute and funny on their own, but if the parents are getting baby photos done, then they come into their own. Try to avoid ‘Mommy’s little whatever’ or ‘Daddy’s special what-have-you’ etc – it’s too cutesy.

A tip on sizing: Most babies grow fast, and a few show up bigger than the ‘newborn’ size, so at the very least get 0-3 month clothes, however, lots of people like to get clothes a lot bigger and I think that is a great idea – just be careful of the seasons – there is no point in buying a winter baby a snowsuit in 6-9 months because it will be summer by the time they are in that size. Try to get something that is good for all seasons.

7. Something for Mum

Although most mums are happy for the baby to be the focus of attention, it can be nice to get a little token for the mums too.

  • Bath-soaps and lotions are an old favourite; just avoid anything strong smelling that might interfere with bonding.
  • Foods that she loved pre-pregnancy, which turned her stomach during the pregnancy, might be fun to try again – just be mindful of foods that should be avoided while breastfeeding if she is taking that route.
  • If you are close to the parents; an offer of an hour’s sleep could be nice, or staying with the baby while they take a walk, get a coffee, pack bags and plan to leave the country, whatever.

*If you are young enough to be the parent of a newborn, you are young enough to be called young, we will have no ageism here.

This article first appeared on

6 signs your son is plotting against you


For the most part, it’s me and him against the world. We are Winnie the Poo’s Kanga and Roo (wherever Kanga goes, Roo goes too). However, like a newly rich billionaire still married to his high-school sweet-heart, I get the impression that, although he is currently satisfied with his set-up, he is only biding his time until he can upgrade his Mammy-Model.

There are a few little tell-tale signs that he is plotting his way out of this family and into another:

1. Plans to lure in another

No lady can pass us, anywhere, without my son beaming up at her, gurgling sweet-nothings. If the lady happens to be blond, then all the tricks come out – clapping hands, coughing for attention, handing over his half eaten sticky rusk (at ten months his repertoire is limited). It’s as though he has figured out he wants a Mamma in his life, but maybe a blond one would better suit his lifestyle.

2. Plans to ditch the current model

It’s an old trick but a reliable one, if he stays awake for several consecutive nights, Mammy eventually breaks and call in reinforcements; the Grandmothers, at which point he will sleep the whole night through. This is a two prong approach because not only does it cause the Grandmothers to give unsolicited sleep advice to the Mammy which makes her want to kill people because she is so tired, it also makes Mammy question if she is a little crazy and was maybe doing something wrong.

3. Closing the door behind Mammy

My son is a speedy crawler and loves to be playing on the ground, so as I do housework, he crawls around with his toys and generally amuses himself. However lately he has found a new way to amuse himself; he will wait until I leave the room then quickly crawl over to close the door behind me, and then jam his fingers under the door so I can’t open it again. This can amuse him for hours, especially if I get stuck climbing in the window to rescue him – that slapstick is a level even Mr Bean couldn’t reach.

4. Wild hysteria when the hairdryer is switched on

This is a plot to keep me indoors, because this hysteria only ever seems to coincide with a planned night out – there aren’t enough nights out to test this theory fully, but I think I have seen a correlation. I think there is a level of subterfuge here which borders on genius (evil genius obviously, but genius nonetheless), because on one level it appears as though he loves me and doesn’t want me to leave, but on another level it’s almost as if he can smell the crazy and thinks ‘if I keep her locked in this house for just one day more, I think she will actually crack’.

5. Pushing wheeled objects through the banisters onto the stairs as I am carrying bundles of laundry

This, I feel, lacks the panache of some of his other tactics, but it is nonetheless effective, efficient, and it has the added benefit of ‘looking like an accident’. Touché son.

6. Playing up for the Health Nurse

My son can crawl, stand and is starting to take some steps. He won’t eat solid foods and he can’t sleep properly, but forward motion is not one of our difficulties, until of course we are called somewhere official for assessment, then it’s as though he is made of jelly. He rolls his head around my shoulder and wails at the top of his lungs while snots and tears merge in a river of destitute agony. He looks like an advertisement for Barnardos and in his head he has got to be thinking ‘no health worker can ignore this, I’m outta this family, smell ya later Mammy!’. Unfortunately for him our lovely Health Nurse has seen it all before – she gives me an encouraging talk and tells me to come back next week when everything will be fine. I swear there was a look of sheer disbelief in my son’s eyes as I was allowed leave that office with him still in tow.

This article originally appeared on

I run because …

i run because


I run because … I love food. I must be the only person who fantasies about take-away as they are pounding the pavement. I picture Sweet & Sour Chicken with Egg-fried rice. I picture McDonalds Chicken Burger with large chips. I picture prawn cocktails, steaks, lasagne, bun-burgers and cheese fries. I put one foot in front of the other and think of what I am going to eat as soon as I get home.


I run because … I have a very expensive wardrobe I want to get back into. I can’t wear my temporary pennies wardrobe forever.


I run because … I want to get back home. I intentionally run in a circular circuit, at a time when there is nobody else home, with a dog that gets travel sick in cars. There is only one way home and that is to keep going. I can’t call a taxi as the dog will puke and I’ll have to pay for cleaning. I can’t ring home because there is nobody there. There is no point in turning back half way through my work-out as it is the same distance to the end. There is only one way out. If I want to get home I need to keep on going. Or else sit by the roadside for the rest of my life.


I run because … I’m a little vain.


I run because … I need to exercise the dog. I was conned into purchasing a dog bred for farm work, and then I put it in a garden the size of a postage stamp. Poor chap will go barmy if he is not exercised. Or worse bark all night and chew my new couches.


I run because … I don’t want to be the fat one anymore.


I run because … Doctors tell me that a cardio-workout will give me a healthy heart and prolong my life. Although I come from a family with a tradition of long life, so I am not sure how much past 102 I really want to live.


I run because … I like to dance, and I look better when there is less junk in my trunk.


I run because … It gives me head space and time alone to think my thoughts, listen to my music, be my own self for a little bit.


I run at night because … every family has one member people would prefer would exercise under the shroud of darkness. Red faced, sweat pumping, hair askew (and that is just when I am leaving the house), tethered to the worlds most excited dog on the way out, dragging the lazy mutt behind me on the way back. Darkness is my friend here.


I run because … I wasn’t born this way.



Facts about First Time Motherhood

first time mother

A thesis on some of the finer points of first time motherhood. 


  1. The first 6 weeks are hell

There is no pretty way to dress it up, or tell it another way. And like Nam, you don’t know unless you were there.

Nobody talks about it. Nobody warns you. But for 6 weeks you might as well be living in Guantanamo Bay – there is sleep deprivation, the food is awful and you live in constant fear. Fear you will drop the baby. Fear they will stop breathing. Fear they will never stop crying. Fear your in-laws will never leave. Fear you will never want your in-laws to leave.

Some days it feels like your love for your baby is closer to Stockholm Syndrome – you love him, you know he doesn’t mean to hurt you, and yet, if you could hide him under the bushes without Social Services getting involved you might. Like Bosco’s magic door, people have no idea what is going on behind your front door, but just assume it’s likely to resemble a zoo.

But then it passes. Like dawn arriving, it’s silent and you don’t realise it’s happening until the darkness lifts and brightness returns. And then you forget it ever happened, like a horrific event your mind blocks it out and supressed it to your subconscious, which is the reason the world has middle and youngest children.



  1. It’s no longer creepy to watch somebody sleep

And to add to that – now watching someone sleep is a completely acceptable group activity.


Forget the TV, you and your partner will pass many a happy moment just lying on the couch or bed watching your little one sleep. Some of this is joy they are no longer crying, some of it is to watch that they keep breathing, but mostly it’s because you are too tired to do anything else. Anyone who drops by during this moment will probably just sit down beside you and join in the staring.



  1. You realise Queen Bey, Christina Aguilera, Britters, Lily Allen, Pink – all your pop icon Mums lied to you

Ladies who have sung about all the heartbreak and hardship in life. Ladies who have taken on everyone and everything, declared what was womanhood, and said it how it was. They have sang about cheating, lying, orgasms, drinking, going to work, watching other people going to work, being back-stabbed, going on a night out, sleeping around, traveling, everything and anything and sometimes about nothing at all. You name it – they have a tune about it, and how you will overcome it. But another human gets ripped from your Ya-Ya ….. nothing – just an empty space on the record.

You would think somewhere along the way they might have dropped a hint. Somewhere between waxing lyrical about how much they love their kids and declaring war on any challengers in their absence, you think they might have mentioned, oh by the way, getting pregnant is great and all, but childbirth is hell, and after that, your body looks like a deflated balloon and your spirit, well best not talk about it really, but we made it through somehow and you will too. Nowhere in their songs of motherhood is there the mention of cracked nipples, tracking the ratio of wet:dirty nappies, or the elation felt when the baby finally burps.



  1. You become strangely competitive

Milestone check-ups and Mother/Baby groups seem to bring out the crazy in the most stable of people. Mothers morph from the Relaxed Mom “ah-he-has-ten-fingers-and-ten-toes-sure-he-is-a-grand-little-baby” to Stepford Mom “my-baby-can-lunge-at-10-weeks-clearly-he-is-Mensa-material-and-Harvard-would-be-lucky-to-have-him”.

Parents know in their right minds that very few grown adults are incapable of lifting their head, or moving it to both sides, and yet, coming up to that milestone check, they are training those babies like they are trying out for the Olympics. There is a daily schedule of practice time and rest time to be strictly followed. And once the baby passes the test? well, books back in the bag until it’s time to cram for the next one.



  1. Dirty nappies are no longer totally gross

You become very comfortable with a little baby sitting on your knee filling that nappy practically to the brim, because you know if it is coming out, there is enough going in the other end. Plus there will be less chance of colic and the sleepless nights of crying it brings with it, if everything is passing through the clearing house. Shit never smelt so good.


  1. Previous faults can now be disguised as enthusiastic mothering

All previous irritating habits and faux pas can now be twisted so that it does not appear that you are an annoying twat, rather you are An Awesome Mum:


Previously: OCD Clean Freak disinfecting everyone and thing in a 10 mile radius

Now: An Awesome Mum working fearlessly against the invasion of germs in any disguise


Previously: Social bore telling tedious stories that may be a reflection of her son’s genius or may be him passing wind.

Now: An awesome Mum of a possible over achiever


Previously: Over demanding pushy bitch

Now: An Awesome Mum just trying to get the best start from life for her kids


Previously: Self-obsessed narcissist only waiting for you to finish your dull story about skydiving from a speeding train while being tracked by international spies, so that she can tell the story of her kid’s dirty diaper again

Now: An awesome Mum concerned about her son’s health



  1. No matter what you are doing, someone will make you feel like you are doing the whole thing wrong.

Whether you are breastfeeding or bottle feeding, gave birth vaginally or by C-section, have decided to conduct social experiments on your children by raising them with wolves or have opted for the more traditional route, everywhere you go someone will have an opinion.


My particular favourite is that something you are doing makes you ‘less of a Mom’. Now last time I checked the only criteria to being a Mom was having kids. There is no grey area. Either you have kids and are a Mom, or you do not have kids and are not. I can imagine that there is many a mother out there who has had to drive down to the police station to discuss her kids anti-social behaviour who would love to say to the arresting officer “Actually, I didn’t breastfeed him until he was three, so there is that possibility I am not 100% his Mom, and so therefore may not actually be liable for this fine.” I could imagine the officer’s response would not be open to that theoretical debate.


  1. “Well…. did you miss him?”

Leave your child for more than two seconds and this question will be asked. However, a little like the question “When did you stop beating your wife” there is really no correct answer. Say yes and you are an over-bearing possessive mother raising a clingy child. Say no and you are a callous bey-atch that does not deserve a child.

The real question should be what self-indulgent naughty thing do you get up to without them? Did you go into shops in old-fashioned cramped buildings with steps at the entrance and a windy staircase to the other level? Did you wander around expensive designer stores without worrying if you would have to buy something because it was now covered in puke? Did you sit in the cinema to watch the loudest action film you could find and stuff your face with noisy foods around nap time? Or did you just crawl back to bed and lie there, with a book and maybe a cup of tea, with no reason to get back out of it for hours. Paradise.

A Riposte to A Home Made By Committee

Space Dinosaurs - The Real Enemy
Space Dinosaurs – The Real Enemy


On Wednesday we posted an article called Moon Acreage: Sound Financial Investment or Immoral Speculation. In the interest of frank and fair debate, we have invited Maire Brophy, the said friend who purchased the moon acreage, on to give her rebuttal.


I am compelled by a sense of natural justice to write a repost to the scurrilous article “Moon Acreage: Sound Financial Investment or Immoral Speculation” dated September 24th, 2014.

As the ‘friend’ Ms Clarke mentioned in the article, the reasons for my purchase of this property were roundly misrepresented.


I am, as it happens, currently experiencing seriously difficulties relating to the current Dublin property bubble that, by all accounts, is not happening. This, however, is entirely unrelated to my moon land purchases.


I did not, as purported by Ms Clarke, buy moon land in order to set up a home there, despite the possible commuting issues. I’m not irrational, I know the Luas won’t reach the Moon until at least 2050, by which time I will be well retired and spending my summers on Mars and winters on Venus in a timeshare, when I’m not visiting the penguins on Pluto.


No, the moon land I purchased is simply a matter of legacy. You see I want to be remembered. And I’m very lazy, so I want to be remembered with as little effort on my part as possible.


I was left with a conundrum of how to be remembered. The traditional way to do this, I believe, is to have children. But that comes with a lot of downsides. They expect you to care for them and love them, and even occasionally feed them. So far I’ve got around this by having niblings (children of your siblings) instead of children. Niblings don’t require the day to day nurturing that your own children require, but you can still destroy their Lego creations with your space dinosaur attack and disrupt their education by trying to convince them that space dinosaurs are actually a thing.


Importantly you can also leave things to your niblings that might be passed on to their descendants.


Now let us return to the moon. The legality of the claim on the moon, and subsequent selling of the plots is certainly questionable. But the legal world around us is of our own construction and it may be that moon deed holders come to power and uphold the veracity of our claim, by the time we can actually go to the moon on the Luas. In that case future generations will attribute their wealth and status to my visionary whim (after, of course, a lot of wrangling over who actually owns the deed).


Indeed not only will I have supplied them with the right to moon land, but also with the skills to defeat the space dinosaurs that dwell there (the first of which is not to build your moon dwellings out of Lego) and will fulfil our birth-right to enslave space dinosaurs everywhere (it’s in the constitution – look it up!).


If, however, and this case is much more likely, the claim is considered to be highly questionable, well then we’ve got a long legal battle on our hands. In which the deed, bearing my name, will be discussed at length. I would expect my name to be long remembered, and possibly cursed. But the important thing is to be remembered. Not bad for something that cost 20 euro.


Like my granny always said, if you can’t be remembered for doing some great thing to improve the lot of humanity, you might as well be remembered for causing a complicated legal situation, and the subsequent protracted battle in court.


Those old sayings really are timeless.


So in response to your titular question, I would say that the purchase of moon land is neither a sound financial investment nor an immoral speculation, but rather a way to pre-emptively get back at future generations for their loud music, erratic fashions and insistence that space dinosaurs are not real.


Moon Acreage: Sound Financial Investment or Immoral Speculation



The crisis is back. Dublin is facing a significant housing shortage; with buyers’ beginning to queue for five days before houses open for sale to the public. Property prices in urban areas are beginning to rise, rents are inflating accordingly, while rural areas struggle to gather enough property tax to maintain basic services. Once again as the bubble swells, it’s all beginning to feel a little bit Deja-vu, as we are assured that it is absolutely not a bubble and that there will indeed be a soft landing. People are once again desperate to get on the property ladder as soon as possible, fearing that if they wait prices will once again soar astronomically.


A nasty new trait of this second bubble however is the position of the lowest rung on the property ladder. With dramatically fewer units being built each year, many first-time buyers are being forced to buy second-hand homes. Most of these current home owners are still being scorched by negative equity, so the bottom rung is not the price of the fire-sales of the crash, but rather a price at which previous owners can afford to walk away at (unless of course you are fortunate enough to find a new estate with fixed prices opening in your area). Planners are predicting that the shortage of affordable homes in the city will push the commuter belt out as far as Louth, Meath, Kildare and Wicklow, forcing long commutes on already weary workers. It is no wonder that people are beginning to look around for alternative accommodation.


The question remains however, how far will they go this time? While the desperate among us quote house prices in Leitrim for €45,000 and less, in the Celtic Tiger Era it was not unknown for commuters to undertake a two or three hour daily trek from Gorey, Athlone, Edenderry or Portlaoise. The agreement being that it was possible to buy land and build for a fraction of the city prices and that there was no traffic on the commute once outside the city limits. Usually there was a vague Council Development Plan to improve public transport to these new urban hubs, so really these commuters were early pioneers whose properties were bound to dramatically increase in value at any time now.


A friend of mine took this reasoning one step further, and looking at the advancements being made by Virgin Galactic to commercialise space travel, she figured out that her quality of life and her work/life balance could not be diminished any further if her home was on the moon. Although not currently a feasible commute, she has made a speculative investment on behalf of the next generation and purchased a bijou plot overlooking the Sea of Tranquillity, located on the bright side of the moon, but within easy walking (bouncing?) distance of the entertainment quarter bound to be located on the dark side.


With precedents set in the land grab of America by the Mayflower settlers, and in the plantations of Ireland, the validity of this investment cannot so easily be dismissed by naysayers. The purchase from the Lunar Embassy takes advantage of the UN Outer Space Treaty of 1967 which stipulates that no government can own extra-terrestrial property, but, neglects to mention individuals and corporations. Therefore, under laws dating back to early US settlers, it is possible to stake a claim for land that has been surveyed, by registering it with the US Office of Claim Registries, and by informing the General Assembly of the United Nations, the US Government, and the Russian Government, in writing, of the legal claim. These governing bodies have several years in which to contest the claim, which they never have.


However before my friend bedecks herself in the latest in Pioneer Women’s Fashion, a few practical matters must be addressed. While investing in foreign properties was a characteristic of the first bubble, and I am sure there have been guarantees made that the Luas link will eventually get that far, one must not overlook the unique challenges having a home not only in a different timezone, but also on a different calendar. Acquiring insurance in such a volatile market will have its own quirks and ‘acts of god’ will probably require redefining. Should one decide to lease their property, or enter into time-share, contracts will have to overcome the differences in an Earth year verses a Moon year (354 days). This difference in calendar will also have to be overcome by employers in the new lands as the Working Time Act, Public Holidays and indeed the number of hours in a working day will all need reinterpretation for the new environment (a day on the Moon lasts 29.5 Earth days).


However before rushing forth to these new lands, one must stop to think of the repercussions this absentee landlordism might create. I presume the strategy to populate these new lands will be much as it always has been in human history. Just as the conquests of old, an invading wave of mercenaries shall sweep before the settlers clearing up any misunderstanding the native population might have regarding land ownership, with the colonists to follow, flag in hand, ready for planting. However this general assumption seems to be that much like the Spanish had steel and the English had long swords, that we Earthmen will have the superior weaponry to clear the moon men/ women/ super furry animals/ beings from our path. Not once has anyone stopped to consider that much like playful lambs prancing into a pack of wolves and back out again, that the moon beings have been salivating since the first moon walk waiting for us to come back. Just because they didn’t eat Neil Armstrong on sight doesn’t mean that he wasn’t a shocked and confused alien expression away from his most famous words being “One small step from man, one giant – oh my god, what the hell is tha- it’s got my leg!! It’s got my leg?!”, with Buzz running for his life in the background. Although one could also consider that much like the UN protects developing primitive tribes from the onslaught of modernisation, so too could the advanced Moon civilisation be allowing this culture to grow at its own pace organically, and they are just waiting for us to get there to start selling us the Moon equivalent of sneakers, McDonalds, Coke-Cola and gin.