Showing posts with label cowardice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cowardice. Show all posts

Monday, 11 February 2013

Runs in the family



     Cassel shook his head. ‘It’s hard to believe, perhaps, that he knew a man who fought in the last revolution in these islands. His own Grandfather served against the Jacobites at Culloden. I say served — in fact, according to Flashman, his grandfather ran screaming from the field at the first shot, and didn’t stop running till he reached Inverness.’



Mr American, p.198, Pan Books, paperback edition 1982.


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Monday, 17 December 2012

A fleeing Flashy



Ask any man who’s been hit foursquare by a fleeing Flashy, fourteen stone of terrified bone and muscle, and he’ll agree that it’s a moving experience . . .



Flashman on the March, p.240, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.


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Tuesday, 17 July 2012

Like an elderly ghost



      It’s a strange thing, but however funky you may be — and I’ll take all comers in that line — once you’re moving there’s a kind of controlled panic that guides your feet; I went up those stairs like an elderly ghost . . .


Flashman and the Tiger, p.305, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.



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Thursday, 23 February 2012

Backhanded tribute



It's a backhanded tribute to the memory of the late unlamented Rudi Von Starnberg that my first impulse on meeting his offspring was to look for the communication cord and bawl for help. Time was I’d ha’ done both, but when you've reached your sixties you've either learned to bottle your panic, sit tight, and think like blazes . . . or you haven't reached your sixties, mallum?*

* understand?


Flashman and the Tiger, p.77, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Thursday, 2 February 2012

The partner of my fate



“But what have I to fear,” cries he, with a great idiot laugh, “when the bravest soldier of the British Army, the partner of my fate, is by my side?”
      A great deal, I could have told him, if Bismarck's bullies were after him; he'd find himself relying on the communications cord.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.41, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Friday, 8 April 2011

As fine a catalogue



…as you may know from my memoirs, as fine a catalogue of honours won through knavery, cowardice, taking cover, and squealing for mercy as you’ll ever strike.


Flashman and the Mountain of Light, p.22, Fontana Paperback edition, 1991.



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Tuesday, 21 December 2010

Shirking, running, diving into cover



If you’ve read my earlier memoirs you’ll know all about it — how by shirking, running, diving into cover, and shielding my quaking carcase behind better men, I had emerged after four campaigns with tremendous credit, a tidy sum in loot, and a chestful of tinware.



Flashman and the Dragon, p.10, Fontana Paperback edition, 1986.



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Thursday, 29 April 2010

Flashman on campaigning



…sufficient to say that I bilked, funked, ran for dear life and screamed for mercy as the occasion demanded, all through that ghastly campaign, and came out with four medals, the thanks of Parliament, an audience of our Queen, and a handshake from the Duke of Wellington. It’s astonishing what you can make out of a bad business if you play your hand right and look noble at the proper time.




Flashman's Lady, p.14, Pan edition, 1979.




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Friday, 5 March 2010

When the danger is past



That’s another thing about being a windy beggar – if you scare easily, you usually cheer up just as fast when the danger is past.



Flashman in the Great Game, pp.174-5, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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Wednesday, 13 January 2010

As a general rule



Well, as a general rule anyone can insult me and see how much it pays him, especially if he’s large and ugly and carrying a tulwar*.

* A sword.



Flashman in the Great Game, p.73, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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Friday, 18 December 2009

The Flashman reputation



As so often in the past, I was the victim of my own glorious and entirely unearned reputation – Flashy, the hero of Jallalabad, the last man out of the Kabul retreat and the first man into the Balaclava battery, the beau sabreur of the Light Cavalry, Queen’s Medal, Thanks of Parliament, darling of the mob, with a liver as yellow as yesterday’s custard.



Flashman in the Great Game, p.36, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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Wednesday, 18 November 2009

Long legs and a thumping slice of luck



…I’ve sweated and scampered through during fifty inglorious years of soldiering. Leastways, I know they were inglorious, but the country don’t, thank heaven, which is why they rewarded me with general rank and the knighthood and a double row of medals on my left tit. Which shows you what cowardice and roguery can do, given a stalwart appearance, long legs and a thumping slice of luck…



Flashman in the Great Game, p.13, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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Friday, 10 April 2009

Outside the covers of Hansard




You will wonder, if you’ve read my earlier memoirs (which I suppose are as fine a record of knavery, cowardice and fleeing for cover as you’ll find outside the covers of Hansard), what fearful run of ill fortune got me to Balaclava at all.



Flashman at the Charge, p.11, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.




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Wednesday, 19 November 2008

Ends of the earth



…I’ve spent more than half of the last fifty years at the ends of the earth, in uniform as often as not, and doing most of my walking backwards.



Flash For Freedom!, p.13, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1980.




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Saturday, 27 September 2008

The training of years



For a moment I thought I’d killed him, but I didn’t wait about to see. The training of years asserted itself, and I turned and bolted headlong down the path, with no thought but to put as much distance as I could between me and the scene of possible danger.



Royal Flash, p.178, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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Wednesday, 24 September 2008

Completely off guard



I, who normally throw myself behind cover if someone breaks wind unexpectedly, was completely off guard.



Royal Flash, pp.176-7, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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Friday, 30 May 2008

It costs nothing

Well, I am a poltroon myself, but this was ridiculous; it costs nothing to make a show, when all is said.



Flashman, p.161, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.




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Friday, 23 May 2008

A continual funk

At first I went about in a continual funk, but after a while one became fatalistic; possibly from dealing with people who believe that every man’s fortune is unchangeably written on his forehead.



Flashman, p.111, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.




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