Showing posts with label plunger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label plunger. Show all posts

Friday, 1 May 2009

the legions of bottles




He would be in his mid-fifties by now, and it showed; the whiskers were graying, the gooseberry eyes were watery, and the legions of bottles he had consumed had cracked the viens in that fine nose of his. But he still rode as straight as a lance, and if his voice was wheezy it had lost nothing of its plunger drawl.



Flashman at the Charge, p.26, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.




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Monday, 7 July 2008

The happy reek of brandy

We were entering what is now called the Victorian Age, when respectability was the thing; breeches were out and trousers came in; bosoms were being covered and eye modestly lowered; politics was becoming sober, trade and industry were becoming fashionable, the odour of sanctity was replacing the happy reek of brandy, the age of the Corinthian, the plunger and the dandy was giving way to the prig, the preacher and the bore.



Royal Flash, p.13, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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Thursday, 26 April 2007

What they call a plunger

He looked at me sharp, head on one side. 'Good,' says he. 'This makes it easier. I had thought you might be a smooth one, but I see you're what they call a plunger.'





Flashman, p.60, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.



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Wednesday, 31 January 2007

A hell of a swell

I asked him what he meant by plunging.

'Oh,' he says, 'a plunger is a fellow who makes a great turnout, don't you know, and leaves cards at the best houses, and is sought by the mamas, and strolls in the Park very languid, and is just a hell of a swell generally. Sometimes they even condescend to soldier a little - when it doesn't interfere with their social life.'





Flashman, p. 33, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.


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