Showing posts with label Oscar Wilde. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oscar Wilde. Show all posts

Tuesday, 10 July 2012

Stealing best



“Quoting Shakespeare, Oscar?” says I. “Pity you don’t crib him more often. Get better notices, what? My dear,” says I to Selly, “this is Mr Wilde, who write comic material for the halls.”


Flashman and the Tiger, p.290, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Monday, 9 July 2012

Bold Oscar





. . . and caught the eye of the bold Oscar, who was holding forth languidly to a group of his fritillaries near the bar entrance, looking as usual like an overfed trout in a toupé.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.290, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Wednesday, 4 July 2012

Sapper jacket and .44 revolver



Instead of a smoking, blood-stained ruin, there was the plush and guilt of the circle bar at the St James’s Theatre, instead of the Sapper jacket and .44 revolver there was an opera cloak and silver-mounted cane, and instead of dead Zulus for company there was Oscar Wilde. (I make no comparisons.)


Flashman and the Tiger, p.289, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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