Rule Britannia, thinks I

. . . our jaunty subaltern was putting on dog in no uncertain manner. His old red coat was sponged and pressed, his whiskers shone with pomade, his cap was on three hairs, his cane under his arm, and his monocle in his eye. Rule Britannia, thinks I, and stamped my heel in reply to the barra salaam* he threw me . . .


 *Big salute


Flashman on the March, p.245, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.


Tags: Flashman, Flashman quotes, pomade.