Showing posts with label taste. Show all posts
Showing posts with label taste. Show all posts

Friday, 13 April 2012

This means nothing to me



 . . . the whole quarter reeked of money, privilege, and luxury in doubtful taste. It was reckoned to be the richest Upper Ten outside London, and the two hundred families of princes, counts, and assorted titled trash spent ten million quid among ’em per annum, which ain’t bad for gaslight and groceries. They spent more, ate more, drank more, danced more, and fornicated more than any other capital on earth (and that's Fetridge* talking, not me) . . .

*Footnote 23. W. Pembroke Fetridge was the author of The American Traveller's Guide: Harper's Handbook for Travellers in Europe, which first appeared in 1862. Flashman probably had the 1871 edition.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.185, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Tuesday, 31 January 2012

A savage and a mackerel



      Count Shuvalov, she informed me, was a sacred perverted beast, a savage and a mackerel and a swine of tastes indescribable .... demanding from her an Arabian Nights performance which I doubt even Dick Burton had ever heard of. He had also insisted that they smear each other all over with quince jam, to which he was partial, and while much of it had been removed in the ensuing frolic, I noticed that she still had a tendency to attract fluff and other light debris as she raged to and from the kitchen with hot kettles for her bath.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.35, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Friday, 15 January 2010

Damned bad taste



It would have been in damned bad taste if it hadn’t been so bloody expensive…



Flashman in the Great Game, p.75, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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