Showing posts with label father. Show all posts
Showing posts with label father. Show all posts

Wednesday, 6 March 2013

Art criticism the Flashman way



‘In my youth, if a lady of quality had expressed her opinion* — as she has a perfect right to do — d’you think she’d have been dragged before a magistrate? Certainly not! She’d have been sent down to the country for a rest, her father would have bought the damned painting, her brother would have horse whipped the artist and that’d be that!’


* i.e. Attacking a painting with a meat cleaver (Speedicut)


Mr American, p.391, Pan Books, paperback edition 1982.


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Monday, 14 May 2012

Jingling her loot



      “Och, isn’t he the wee duck?” sighs she, jingling her loot as he hobbled away. “Aye, weel, mony a mickle mak’s a muckle, as Papa used to say.” She slipped it into her bag and broke into civilised speech.


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


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Tuesday, 27 March 2012

His abominable son



      What was the phrase young Hawkins used in his book? “Surely, while you're above ground, Hell wants its master!” Spoken of the fictitious image of Rudi von Starnberg, but by God it fitted his abominable son even better...


Flashman and the Tiger, p.143, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Friday, 18 November 2011

The most awful punishment



“’Twas the most awful punishment anyone could give a child,” says Watson. “Imagine, havin’ to lick your own father! I tell you, Josh, it near broke my heart. Say, didn’t it keep us good, though!”
      It wouldn’t have kept this infant good; I’d have laced the old bugger till his arse fell off. But then, I never had any proper filial regard, and if you’d ever met my guv’nor you’d understand why.


Flashman and the Angel of the Lord, pp.246-47, Harper Collins, 1995.


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Thursday, 16 December 2010

Paternal assistance (Flashy style)



“…I’ll help in any way a father can—I mean, I know what strings to pull, and corners to cut, and palms to grease—and backs to stab—”


Flashman and the Redskins, p.346, Pan Books edition, 1983.




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Wednesday, 15 December 2010

Son of Flashman



He acted like me, he thought like me, and take the paint and braids off him, and by God he looked like me: even the red skin was just weather, and I’ve been darker myself out east. If there was a difference, it was that I suspected (after Greasy Grass) he was brave, poor lad. I think he probably was; got that from Cleonie’s side, no doubt. As to his deep nature, though, I can’t tell; I doubt if he was as big a blackguard as I am, but then he was only half my age. And being so like me, he undoubtedly had the gift of concealing his character.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.342, Pan Books edition, 1983.




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Tuesday, 14 December 2010

Pappa Flashman



It isn’t ever day you find a son…


Flashman and the Redskins, p.242, Pan Books edition, 1983.




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Monday, 13 December 2010

Flashy’s boy, no error



Good actor, too—aye, it all fitted, the skill in histrionics and dissimulation, the delight in twisting the victim’s tail, the mockery, the cool damn-you cut of his jib, the callous way he talked of things other youngsters would have been ashamed of. Oh, he was Flashy’s boy, no error—even if I hadn’t sold his mama down the river, there’d have been no touching reunion between father and son. We ain’t cut out for affection, much, our lot.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.338, Pan Books edition, 1983.




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Tuesday, 24 August 2010

Terrifying yearning



She looked at me with a truly terrifying yearning; I’d seen nothing like it since the doctors were putting the strait-jacket on my guvnor and whisking the brandy out of his reach.


Flashman and the Redskins, pp.42-43, Pan Books edition, 1983.




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Wednesday, 9 June 2010

The White Rajah



      ‘Hold on, though – what can he do, if even the navy’s powerless?’
      ‘He’s J.B.,’ says Stuart, simply, with that drunk, smug look you see on a child’s face when his father mends a toy.

Flashman's Lady, pp.127-28, Pan edition, 1979.



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Monday, 23 November 2009

A proud father introducing his son



…little Havvy (the first fruit of our union, a guzzling lout of seven)



Flashman in the Great Game, p.14, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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Wednesday, 21 October 2009

Blue touch paper



‘Stand clear, boys and girls,’ I sang out. ‘Papa’s going to light the blue touch-paper and retire immediately!’



Flashman at the Charge, p.274, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.




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Monday, 29 January 2007

A nabob's grandson

He was an odd fish, the guv'nor, and he and I had always been wary of each other. He was a nabob's grandson, you see, old Jack Flashman having made a fortune in America out of slaves and rum, and piracy too, I shouldn't wonder...



Flashman, p. 16, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.





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