Showing posts with label queen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label queen. Show all posts

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

Like pistol cracks



      They gave her dinner, and she entranced and appalled the company by laying into the goods like a starving python; as Stanley reported: “She ate like a gourmande, disposing of what came before her without regard to the horrified looks . . . pudding before beef, blancmange with potatoes . . . emitting labial smacks like pistol cracks.”


Flashman on the March, p.283, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.



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Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Perversely partial



. . . but she was a hearty piece of middle-aged Eve’s flesh of no remarkable allure — that she appealed to me was by the way; I’m a connoisseur of feminine beauty but no discrimination worth a dam, and anyway I’m perversely partial to royal rattle.


Flashman on the March, p.168, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.


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Monday, 5 November 2012

Encountering royalty



      You never know what to expect on encountering royalty. I’ve seen ’em stark naked except for wings of peacock feathers (Empress of China), giggling drunk in the embrace of a wrestler (Maharani of the Punjab), voluptuously wrapped in wet silk (Queen of Madagascar), wafting to and fro on a swing (Rani of Jhansi), and tramping along looking like an out-of-work charwoman (our own gracious monarch).


Flashman on the March, pp. 148-9, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.


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Wednesday, 29 February 2012

The lives of thousands



      “You mean you’re game?” cries he eagerly. “You’re with us?”
      “Suppose you tell me why I should be.”
      “How could you not?” Kralta couldn't believe her ears, like a queen with a farting courtier. “With the peace of Europe in the balance, and the lives of thousands, perhaps millions at stake?”


 Flashman and the Tiger, p.90, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Friday, 25 February 2011

Unbridled appetite






     Perhaps, on consideration, I’m wrong to call her a monster — unless it’s monsterous to indulge an unbridled appetite without regard for anyone or anything. Yes, I think that’s right: I do, and I’m a monster.

Flashman and the Dragon, p.238, 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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Monday, 25 January 2010

Queens or commoners



I know these beauties, you see, and it don’t matter whether they’re queens or commoners, when they start to play the cool, mocking grande dame it’s a sure sign that they’re wondering what kind of mount you’ll make.



Flashman in the Great Game, p.85, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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Monday, 18 January 2010

Clearly, not a leg man



There was strength in every line of her, too, for all her femininity – by George, I couldn’t remember when I’d seen bouncers like those, thrusting like pumpkins against the muslin of her blouse, which was open to the jeweled clasp at her breastbone – if it hadn’t been for a couple of discreetly embroidered flowers on either side, there would have been nothing at all to hide. I could only stand speechless before such queenly beauty, wondering what it would be like to tear the muslin aside, thrust your whikers in between ’em, and go brrrrr!



Flashman in the Great Game, p.79, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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