In RTE’s Art of DOMINATION Special tonight: former Ireland and Munster star Alan Quinlan could suffer permanent scarring due to Ireland’s rubbish Six Nations and the general stuck-in-the-shite dire nature of the national side’s play.
The on-pitch horrors have already secured the ascension of Fr. Declan, and now the softly-spoken ex-flanker, known for the bad luck which left his international career permanently spluttering, and his ability to take a crowbar to the temple without blinking, is in Tipperary Global Hospital under observation from doctors worried his eyebrows may finally “go vertical”.
Welcome to Family Stories on your Home Hive Mind Network! Why think yourself when we can do it for you? We’ll make you laugh, we’ll make you cry – no, not Irish rugby, but somatic homilies
between blood – let HHMN teach you what’s really important. Tonight: a little boy’s drive proves inspirational.
But first, a word to the wise from our sponsors, Outsourced Emotions Ltd. Remember, don’t let HOPE become FEAR!
*scream*Emotions! Change channel, Quinny!*click*
Speaking exclusively with RTE’s Art of DOMINATION Special, Doctor Josef Schmidt, world expert in rugby-related maladies, said: “Alan’s eyebrows are in the balance. The current direction is ship-onto-iceberg, it must change. I’m struggling to think of a suitable metaphor for this grave prognosis but it reminds me of something, perhaps concerning rugby.”
“From what we know, Alan re-calibrated his eyebrows on purpose. Many players face poor health in later life and this is unfortunately no different. The brows still operate as normal, but from an altered – ”
*scream*Why are there only two channels, Quinny? Beats me, Quinny *click*
Welcome back to Family Stories on HHMN. It started 30 years ago when an eight-year-old boy begged his mother to let him play rugby. “I don’t know,” she told friends, “it’s a rough game, I’m worried he’ll get hurt. Yes, Alan’s big for his age, but he’s so gentle.”
At home, the boy moved his mother’s full-length mirror into his bedroom, where he was dressing up to play. “Little teddy, you’re the ball today,” he said, “and big teddy, I’m sorry, you’re playing for England again.”
The boy, himself clad in green, put a white T-shirt over the larger bear, stroked him briefly, glanced at the Mick Galwey poster on his wall, took a long, slow breath and punched big teddy in the face.
The edge of his vision caught the blow in the mirror. He faced his own scowl, clenched fist, and the knuckles’ imprint still unfolding from the bear’s cheek and nose. “This won’t do,”, he murmured, “I’ll never get away with anything.”
Little Alan stood, thinking. His eyes widened; an idea. Facing his reflection he concentrated, on contrition, on sincerity. “It wasn’t me, sir,” he gasped, “Honest.” His eyebrows twitched.
*scream*That’s not how it was, Quinny! Wasn’t it, Quinny?*click*
“While the southern hemisphere of Alan’s head is joyful,” Doctor Schmidt indicated, “the northern hemisphere has been captured by Buffalo Bill and is trapped in the serial killer’s basement. In happy moods, he looks like he’s just seen a stranger get run over in the street. When he’s mildly concerned, you’d think he’s set to cry himself dry. Right now his eyebrows are in danger of being absorbed into his already-handy sideburns or even going beyond vertical and tumbling off altogether.”
*scream*What would a fecking Leinster coach know, Quinny?! Yeah, Quinny, he can feck right off!*click*
Welcome back to Family Stories on HHMN. For the next decade, Alan worked with a monk’s devotion on his naturally ferocious appearance. Mrs Quinlan, hobbled by a mother’s worry, was ever-concerned for her boy’s wellbeing, both physical and mental.
Listening at his bedroom door, she would hear thunderous crash after cacophonous crack, followed by shouting – “I’m on my feet, ref,” or “Sir, I can’t roll away, sir, I’m doing my best.”
On the other side of the door, Alan, amid the splintered remnants of yet another wardrobe, would stare into the mirror, squeezing the inside of his eyebrows upwards as he pleaded for sympathy from his own reflection.
*scream*I was always on my feet and I couldn’t roll away, Quinny! ‘Course you were and ‘course you couldn’t, Quinny!*click*
Doctor Schmidt was honest with our program in his assessment of Quinlan: “Alan’s hard, as hard as they come. Some particularly cold, cruel and efficient viral blots on humanity have come for him before, only to fail. A counsellor is in situ, trying to ease his brows back towards the horizontal. At root, the issue is psychological. We’re not sure Alan is experiencing sensory stimuli or even time in the usual way right now.”
*scream*What time is it, Quinny! Fecked if I know, Quinny!*click*
Welcome back to Family Stories on HHMN. Mrs Quinlan would tell friends, “Alan spends a lot of time in the bathroom, on his own. I know teenage boys are what they are, but I’m still worried – he makes a complete racket.”
“The other day there was a bang so loud I thought the wall had fallen through, and when I went upstairs I heard Alan screaming, ‘It must have been another red six, sir!’ I have no idea what this all means, it’s worrying.”
*scream*It was the other red six, Quinny! You don’t have to tell me, Quinny!*click*
Doctor Schmidt concluded by telling RTE’s Art of DOMINATION Special that he wasn’t without hope: “It’s a slow process. The coming weeks are crucial and, I can divulge exclusively to you that, at heart, he’s a sensitive soul. I’ve promised him personally that if he can wrestle back control from his eyebrows, and if he’s just honest and reasonable, that no-one will ever confuse him for George Hook.”
Witnessed first-hand by Larry on a back-packing holiday through Alan Quinlan’s mind