Beard at high port

      Here he ran out of words, and drew himself up, beard at high port, shaking his great head while he clasped my hand, and i meditated on the astonishing ease with which strong men of Victorian vintage could be buffaloed into incoherent embarrassment by the mere mention of feminine frailty. Something to do with public school training, I fancy.


Flashman on the March, p.278, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.


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Too often to doubt

I’d never seen a pukka battle, or the way a seasoned commander (even one as daft as Paddy Gough) can manage an army, or the effect of centuries of training and discipline, or that other phenomenon which I still don’t understand but which I’ve watched too often to doubt: the British peasant looking death in the face, and hitching his belt, and waiting.


Flashman and the Mountain of Light, p.210, Fontana Paperback edition, 1991.



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The training of years

For a moment I thought I’d killed him, but I didn’t wait about to see. The training of years asserted itself, and I turned and bolted headlong down the path, with no thought but to put as much distance as I could between me and the scene of possible danger.

Royal Flash, p.178, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.

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Flashman, Flashman quotes.