Showing posts with label Herbert Henry Asquith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Herbert Henry Asquith. Show all posts

Friday, 22 March 2013

Some half-baked crank notion



‘. . . I won’t have you ruin your life for some half-baked crank notion that thinks the way to get votes for women is to bomb railway trains. Don’t you see it’s the last thing that can work — no government, not even that weak-kneed rabble of Asquith’s, dare give into terror and vandalism? Anyway, they’ll have a dam’ sight more important things to think of shortly, with this next war that the country’s spoiling for.’ Sir Harry snorted derisively. ‘Look at ’em — legions of bloodthirsty lunatics drilling in Ireland, workers within an ace of a general strike — dammit, even you women have got the fighting fever, with your smashing and bombing and shooting up locomotives. Any fool can see it’ll end in civil war — or more likely our tackling the Kaiser when he takes a slap at Russia or France, which he’s itching to do. Your votes are going to look like small beer, Button — which is why you’re sure to get ’em in the end, and much good they’ll do you. But war or not, you’ll get ’em all the faster if you lie low and work away quietly.’

Mr American, pp.428-9, Pan Books, paperback edition 1982.



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Wednesday, 27 February 2013

General Flashman remarks on the capacity of British prime ministers



. . . they took a cab to the famous club, where Sir Harry stared around the imposing hall and remarked that things weren’t what they had once been. ‘Saw Palmerston fall down that staircase — the whole damned way from top to bottom. Tight as a fiddler’s bitch. Finished up wrapped round that pillar there. Can’t see Asquith doing that, somehow. Rotten prime minister. D’you know, I presented him with a school prize once? Must be fifty years ago — ugly little swot he was then, and hasn’t improved over the years. Mind you, Balfour wouldn’t have been any better — “Pretty Fanny”, they used to call him. Only good thing I know about him was that he taught Asquith how to ride a bicycle. Argued some kind of capacity, I suppose — I’d sooner try to teach a whale to play the fiddle.’


Mr American, p.388, Pan Books, paperback edition 1982.



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Thursday, 31 January 2013

Smash a few windows



      ‘Well, of course I find it funny! Dam’ ridiculous. Votes for women!’ The old gentleman snorted. ‘If you’d any sense you’d campaign to have the vote taken away from men — I’d smash a few windows myself if I thought it would keep clowns like Asquith out of Parliament.’


Mr American, p.186, Pan Books, paperback edition 1982.



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Wednesday, 30 May 2012

Squiffy Asquith and the human hawk






. . . the defendants were represented by two of the best hatchet-men in the business, Charles Russell and young Asquith — you know the latter as the buffoon who infests Number 10 Downing Street at the moment, and my recollection of him is as a shining morning face to which I once presented a prize at the City of London School, but for all that he was accounted a sharp hand in court, while Russell was a human hawk, and looked it.

Flashman and the Tiger, p.248, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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