Showing posts with label toady. Show all posts
Showing posts with label toady. Show all posts

Friday, 30 December 2011

More of Flashy on politicians



“… it takes a peculiar combination of the imbeciles, the toady, and the braggart to run for office in the first place.”


Flashman and the Angel of the Lord, p.350, Harper Collins, 1995.


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Thursday, 18 August 2011

True words





…the only fly in the ointment as I rolled down to Calcutta had been the discovery that during my absence from England some scribbling swine had published his reminiscences of Rugby School, with me as the villain of the piece. A vile volume entitled Tom Brown’s Schooldays, on every page of which the disgusting Flashy was to be found torturing fags, shirking, toadying, lying, whining for mercy, and boozing himself to disgraceful expulsion — every word of it true, and all the worse for that.


Flashman and the Angel of the Lord, p.23, Harper Collins, 1995.



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Wednesday, 21 April 2010

Memories of Tom Brown



…oh, aye, that brought back Master Brown to memory sharp enough. He was the mealy, freckled little villain who tried to steal my sweepstake ticket, damn him – a pious, crawling little toad-eater who prayed like clockwork and was forever sucking up to Arnold and Brooke – ‘yes, sir, please, sir, I’m a bloody Christian, sir’…



Flashman in the Great Game, p.334, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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Thursday, 9 April 2009

Pool halls and toad-eating




And I remember thinking, as I waited trembling for the order that would launch me after Lew towards the Light Brigade, where they sat at rest on the turf eight hundred feet below – this, I reflected bitterly, is what comes of hanging about pool halls and toad-eating Prince Albert.



Flashman at the Charge, p.11, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.




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Wednesday, 3 September 2008

Toadying like fury



But when you’re royalty they treat you as though you’re god; you begin to feel that you’re of entirely different stuff from the rest of mankind; you don’t walk, you float, above it all, with the mob beneath, toadying like fury.



Royal Flash, p.145, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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Friday, 18 July 2008

I was sober, so I toadied

If you’re morally as soft as butter, as I am, with a good streak of the toad-eater in you, there’s no doing anything with people like Bismarck. You can have all the fame that I had then , and the good looks and the inches and the swagger – and I had those, too – but you know you’re dirt to him. If you have to tangle with him, as the Americans say, you know you’ll have to get drunk first; I was sober, so I toadied.



Royal Flash, p.28, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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Wednesday, 25 June 2008

Flown with inspiration

However, I had to say something, so I mumbled about Her Majesty’s service.
  ‘England’s service.’ said she, looking intense.
  ‘The say thing, ma’am,’ says I, flown with inspiration, and she cast her eyes down wistfully. The Duke gave what sounded like a little groan.



Flashman, p.274, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.




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