Showing posts with label combat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label combat. Show all posts

Monday, 13 September 2010

Built like a champion middleweight



      Now, you know what I think of mortal combat. I’ve run from more than I can count, and never lived to regret it, and this lean ten stone of quivering fighting fury, obviously as nimble as a weasel and built like a champion middleweight, was the last man I wanted to try conclusions with—well, I’d been ill.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.157, Pan Books edition, 1983.



Tags:, , .

Thursday, 9 September 2010

Not a knife



…I hacked at his face; a Bowie is not a knife, by the way, but a two-foot pointed cleaver, and if I’d got home it would have been brains for supper…


Flashman and the Redskins, p.145, Pan Books edition, 1983.




Tags:, , .

Tuesday, 19 August 2008

Roaring your heart out


…and if I have to use one [a sabre] I’d rather it wasn’t in single combat, but in a mêlée, where you can hang about on the outskirts, roaring your heart out and waiting for an opponent with his back turned.



Royal Flash, p.123, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




Tags:
, .