Showing posts with label George Broadfoot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label George Broadfoot. Show all posts
Thursday, 26 January 2012
Jezebel with a sassy twinkle
I liked her style: no humbug, just Jezebel with a sassy twinkle and a fifth-form fringe, lightly touched by the crazy gods — as many politicals are; Georgie Broadfoot was daft as a brush.
Flashman and the Tiger, p.34, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.
Tags: Flashman, Flashman quotes, daft.
Monday, 6 June 2011
Truth from falsehood
The trouble with the political service, you know, is that they can’t tell truth from falsehood. Even members of Parliament know when they’re lying, which is most of the time, but folk like Broadfoot simply ain’t aware of their own prevarications. It’s all for the good of the service, you see, so it must be true — and that makes it uncommon hard for straightforward rascals like me when we’re being done browner than an ape’s behind.
Flashman and the Mountain of Light, p.166, Fontana Paperback edition, 1991.
Tags: Flashman, Flashman quotes, falsehood.
Sunday, 25 May 2008
Nerveless clods

I tumbled into Broadfoot’s camp half dead with terror, which he fortunately mistook for exhaustion. George had the bad taste to find it all rather funny; he was one of these nerveless clods, and was in the habit of strolling about under the sniper’s fire polishing his spectacles, although his red coat and even redder beard made him a marked man.
Flashman, p.113, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.
Labels:
clod,
George Broadfoot,
nerveless,
red coat,
red coats,
snipers,
spectacles
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