Do you want a scrap? Somewhere in rural Ireland, there’s an ageing deer who does – but a motorway’s been cut across his habitat, so there are only cars to fight with now. And the boxes on wheels just aren’t up for it: they swerve around him, denying him the thrill and validation that comes from locking horns. One day a farmer appears at the roadside, fleeing perhaps some sadness of their own. And thus deer and human strike up an unlikely allyship, in this funny, moving, and avowedly Irish parable for our time.

Both characters are played by puppets. In Kyle Moss’s hands, the deer is achingly expressive: imposing, undefeated, but the very image of piteous sorrow whenever he hangs his head. His dialogue is poignant too, revealing how his strength and courage are tempered by a profound sense of futility. It’s a darkly absurd setup, but not without humour, and later – when the deer kind-of gets his longed-for fight – the full-on foul-mouthed build-up is a masterpiece of surreal comedy.

Interleaved with the roadside scenes, we hear monologues from each of the characters, and it’s here that we learn most about the farmer (handled and voiced by puppeteer and script-writer Ceilbí). It’s nearly harvest season, and the pattern of their life demands that they go home; but they’re drawn towards the train which leaves every day at 5am, the potential for a new dawn somewhere far away. This could be a metaphor for whatever you choose it to be, but one haunting monologue – a bitter twist on the well-known tale of driving snakes from Ireland – hints that the farmer is trans, with the deer an unexpected but quietly stalwart ally.

By defining himself through physical courage in a noble fight, the deer embodies a stereotypically masculine self-image – one that isn’t necessarily toxic to others, but might not be entirely healthy, all the same. Yet it’s the echo of that fighting spirit, the willingness to scrap, which inspires the farmer to escape the bonds of their own assigned identity. The deer’s perspective isn’t derided, but recognised as a sharp-edged tool – which anyone can pick up, but should handle with care. This is a queer-led narrative, and I’m a cis het man, but still, I feel seen.

The ending does come a little suddenly for me, and there’s a particular sub-plot I didn’t quite follow (ironically, the one which may have inspired the play’s unusual name). Some of the monologues were a little on-the-nose as well; I got the message well before they spelled it out to me. Fix these few small issues, and this will be a five-star show. But don’t wait till then to see it… because if the story has one moral, it’s to hurry up and get on that train.