Showing posts with label social gaffe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label social gaffe. Show all posts

Tuesday, 17 August 2010

Embarrassing little encounters



     You all know those embarrassing little encounters of course—the man you’ve borrowed money off, or the chap whose wife has flirted with you, or the people whose invitation you’ve forgotten, or the vulgarian who accosts you in public. Omohundro wasn’t quite like these, exactly— the last time we’d met I’d been stealing one of his slaves, and shots had been flying, and he’d been roaring after me with murder in his eye, while I’d been striking out for the Mississippi shore.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.27, Pan Books edition, 1983.



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Tuesday, 24 June 2008

Fat-headed remark


‘Why of course,’ says she. ‘we are quite an Indian gathering, with Mr Macaulay here.’ The name meant nothing to me then, he was looking at me damned hard, though, with his pretty little mouth set hard. I later learned that he had spent several years in government out there, so my fat-headed remark had not been lost on him, either.



Flashman, p.272, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.




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Monday, 23 June 2008

Without thinking I said

...he opened his eyes and said did I speak the language, and would I say something in it. So without thinking I said the first words that came into my head: ‘Hamare ghali ana, achha din,’ which is what the harlots chant at passers-by, and means ‘Good day, come into our street.’ He [Prince Albert] seemed very interested, but the man beside him stiffened and stared hard at me.
  ‘What does it mean, Mr Flashman?’ says the Queen.
  ‘It is a Hindu greeting, marm,’ says the Duke, and my guts turned over as I recalled that he had served in India.



Flashman, p.272, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.




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