It’s hard to beat Country ‘n’ Western billionaires for entertainment, and it doesn’t get more C ‘n’ W than Fermanagh, home place of Seán and Peter Quinn, but the Deliverance theme has gone into overdrive with their latest caper.
What sort of shenanigans have the Quinns been up to at all? As we speak, Seán Junior is lying on a bunk in his prison cell, staring at the ceiling and asking himself where it all went wrong. I never done it, Sheriff. I didn’t never do nothin’ to nobody.
Ok, Pete. Tell it to the judge.
Meanwhile his cousin, Peter Darragh Quinn, is facing arrest once the posse finds him. People less charitable would say he’s on the run from the law but let’s just say he’s incommunicado, and we’ll he might be since the judge issued a bench warrant for his arrest after he failed to turn up in court today.
The boys were caught trying to asset-strip what remained of their company’s value by hiding cash in dodgy Ukrainian shopping centre developments, and showed a very bad attitude when it came to complying with the court’s instructions, but that’s what you can expect from young fellas who grew up with a silver spoon up their arses. Country ‘n’ Western billionaires are like that.
Seán Snr, once Ireland’s richest man, has been permitted to stay at large so that he can make arrangements to comply with the court’s instructions and return the €450 million he and the younger generation were trying to hide from IBRC (aka you and me). This is in addition to the €2.5 billion that IBRC are trying to recover from the Quinn family. The Quinns’ defence against this action is the most bizarre I ever heard, and it’s essentially this: since Anglo-Irish Bank illegally lent them the money to buy shares in the bank in an effort to fraudulently inflate the share value, they have no obligation to pay it back.
I’m still trying to figure that one out, but when I finally crack it, you’ll be the first to know. Maybe if I send it to the Large Hadron Collider, they might bombard it with neutrons until it makes sense.
Anyway, Junior is in jail, pickin’ his banjo, blowin’ on his harmonica and a-listenin’ to the coyotes howlin’ at the moon. Senior is begging a gang of grim-faced Russians to give the money back. If he fails to convince them, Ms Justice Elizabeth Dunne will fling him in jail along with the young fella, and the cousin, if the Pinkerton agents ever track him down.
I wonder where young Peter is holed up? Could it be in the Badlands of Monaghan, disguised as Big Tom or Declan Nerney? Maybe he’s fixin’ to bust his cousin loose and go on a rampage across Cavan and Monaghan. For all I know, he’s down in that there livery stable right now, with two fast horses, chewin’ a fat old cee-gar and linin’ up a stick of dynamite to toss at the jailhouse wall.
Sheriff, you better wake up that deppity o’ yours. Looks like y’all could be a mite busy tonight.