Showing posts with label funk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funk. Show all posts

Thursday, 13 September 2012

Inner Flashman



He paused again. “Shall I continue?”
       At this point, when it was plain that some beastly folly was about to be unveiled, Inner Flashman would gladly have cried: “Not unless you wish to risk seeing a grown man burst into tears and run wailing into the Abyssinian night!” Outer Flashman, poor devil, could only sit sweating nonchalantly, going red in the face with funk and hoping that Napier might construe it as apoplectic rage at the prospect of having my travel plans upset.


Flashman on the March, p.51, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.


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Tuesday, 17 July 2012

Like an elderly ghost



      It’s a strange thing, but however funky you may be — and I’ll take all comers in that line — once you’re moving there’s a kind of controlled panic that guides your feet; I went up those stairs like an elderly ghost . . .


Flashman and the Tiger, p.305, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.



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Friday, 23 May 2008

A continual funk

At first I went about in a continual funk, but after a while one became fatalistic; possibly from dealing with people who believe that every man’s fortune is unchangeably written on his forehead.



Flashman, p.111, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.




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