Showing posts with label injury. Show all posts
Showing posts with label injury. Show all posts

Wednesday, 30 November 2011

Flashy’s Sufferance



      The point is I ‘ve made capital out of my dishonourable scars by adhering to one golden rule — Flashy’s Sufferance, I call it: always convey, but never say, that your injury is a sight worse than it really is. It’s elementary, really In convalescence this ensures sympathy, if you play it properly — the barely perceptible wince, the sharp little intake of breath, the faint smile followed by the quick shake of the head, and never a word of complaint from the dear brave boy — but far more importantly, in the heat of battle it enables you to feign mortal hurt and shirk any further part in the action.


Flashman and the Angel of the Lord, p.309, Harper Collins, 1995.


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Tuesday, 7 December 2010

Don't mend as quickly




           When you’re past the fifty mark, you don’t mend as quickly as you used to. For on thing, you don’t want to; where once on a day you couldn’t wait to be off your sick-bed rampaging about, you’re now content to lie still and let any handy ministering angel do their stuff. When I was a brat of a boy I went through hot hell in Afghanistan, had a fort collapse on me, and broke my thigh—a few weeks later I was fit enough to gallop an Afghan wench with my leg in a splint and old Avitabile egging me on, and get beastly drunk afterwards. Not at fifty-three; if they’d paraded the Folies Bergère past me a month after Little Bighorn I’d have asked for bread and milk instead, and damn little of that in case it over-excited me.

Flashman and the Redskins, pp.330-31, Pan Books edition, 1983.




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Tuesday, 11 August 2009

Never forget any injury



Never you mind; I know my own nature hasn’t changed in eighty years, so why should anyone else’s? And I never forget any injury – I’ve done too many of ’em.



Flashman at the Charge, p.134, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.




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