Showing posts with label debauchery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label debauchery. Show all posts

Friday, 8 February 2013

An elderly and debauched eagle



He sat glittering-eyed, like an elderly and debauched eagle, imbibing heroic quantities of champagne without visible effect, and occasionally making unnerving pronouncements. Over the consommé he was heard describing, in graphic detail, how a Cheyenne Indian squaw who evidently doted on him had taught him the preparation of soup from buffalo blood, which was highly recommended for its rejuvenative powers; again, the arrival of fried whitebait stirred a reminiscence of a royal banquet in Madagascar at which the behaviour of the female guests had been unconventional to a degree, and might, he hinted, have been copied with advantage by present company, Mrs Keppel in particular.


Mr American, pp.191-2, Pan Books, paperback edition 1982.



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Thursday, 19 April 2012

A pint and a pie



. . . it wasn't a sufeit of debauchery and the high life, although there does come a time when you find yourself longing for a pint and a pie and a decent night’s sleep. And it was partly that I was beginning to miss English voices and English rain and all those things that make the old country so different, thank God, from the Continent.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.191, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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