Whatever next? Parties on the non-existant moon?!
Duped? Hell no. Pierced straight through the maya of our blackhole sun with your kiddo bravura.
What was your wise uncle doing supporting landings on that rejected clot of earth anyway? Didn't he know it's got a Dark Side?! Then again, every church has to think of their roof....
Goes to show: blame the parents. Safest bet. And not forgetting: their lawns.
(Gosh, croquet, now you mention it: long time since I baked a batch of scones and made my own strawberry jam. Plus that reminds me; get me a flamingo! Off with their heads.)