Showing posts with label Rattle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rattle. Show all posts

Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Perversely partial



. . . but she was a hearty piece of middle-aged Eve’s flesh of no remarkable allure — that she appealed to me was by the way; I’m a connoisseur of feminine beauty but no discrimination worth a dam, and anyway I’m perversely partial to royal rattle.


Flashman on the March, p.168, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.


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Thursday, 22 April 2010

And that lot



‘…Flashman’s brutality had disgusted most even of his own intimate friends …’ No, by God, there was one downright, shameful lie – the kind of friends I had at Rugby you couldn’t have disgusted, not Speedicut and Rattle and that lot…



Flashman in the Great Game, p.335, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.