Showing posts with label society. Show all posts
Showing posts with label society. Show all posts

Friday, 28 September 2012

Belgravian sisters



It was being borne in on me that the moral climate of Abysinnia was not quite that of our own polite society — not that Uliba’s Belgravian sisters are averse to a cut off the joint from time to time, but they know enough to keep quiet about it.


Flashman on the March, p.86, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.



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Thursday, 5 July 2012

Lady Flashman's burden



. . . being Scotch herself, and fancying that she occupied a place in Society, she was forever burdening other unfortunate Caledonians with her presence . . .


Flashman and the Tiger, p.289, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Wednesday, 13 June 2012

No, hardly



I didn’t doubt he’d called me a coward, you understand, but it ain’t the kind of thing a fellow says by way of social chat over the tea-cups is it? “Ah, Lady Flashman, delightful weather, is it not? And did you enjoy The Gondoliers? Such jolly tunes! No, I fear the dear Bishop’s health is not what it was . . . by the by, did I never tell you, your husband’s a bloody poltroon who ran screaming from Isa’Iwana? Oh, you hadn’t heard . . . ?” No, hardly.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.265, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Tuesday, 15 May 2012

We ain’t top-drawer



      She’s God’s own original snob, my little Paisley princess — as though her mill-owning father had been a whit better than the Wilsons. But the little skinflint had collared a peerage in his declining years, you see, and she seemed to think that his coronet and cash, with my V.C. and military rank, to say nothing of her own occasional intimacy with the Queen, raised us above the common herd. Which I guess they did, in an odd way — or if not above, apart at least. We ain’t top-drawer, but there’s no denying we’re different.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.229, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Monday, 2 June 2008

In polite society

‘I shall go,’ says I, and started crawling for the flap. ‘But I may tell you,’ I added, ‘that in polite society it ain’t usual for gentlemen to squeeze ladies’ tits, whatever you have been told. And it ain’t usual, either for ladies to let gentlemen do it; it gives the gentlemen a wrong impression, you know. My apologies, again. Goodnight.’



Flashman, p.185, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.




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