PERSONAL ADS FROM THE LONDON REVIEW OF BOOKS

As read on Car Talk, Personal Ads from the London Review of Books

1. Beneath this hostile museum curator's exterior lies a hostile museum curator's interior. F, 38 Box no, 3542.
2. Blah, blah, whatever. Indifferent woman. Go ahead and write. Box no. 3253. Like I care.
3. Employed in publishing? Me too. Stay the hell away. Man on the inside, seeks woman on the outside, who like milling around hospitals guessing the illnesses of outpatients. 30-35. Leeds. Box no. 3287.
4. Grave disappointment all round would like to meet serious mistake in a nightie. Box no. 6453.
5. I've divorced better men than you. And worn more expensive shoes than these. So don't think placing this ad is the biggest comedown I've ever had to make. Sensitive F, 34. Box no 6322.
6. Lisping Rodgers and Hammerstein fan, female lecturer in politics (37), would like to meet man, to age 40, for thome enthanted eveningth. Box no. 2498
7. List your ten favourite albums. I don't want to compare notes, I just want to know if there's anything worth keeping when we finally break up. Practical, forward-thinking man, 35. Box no 3221.
8. Mid-fifties man. Recently discovered guilt. Can't wait to try it out. Box no. 7297.
9. My finger on the pulse of culture, my ear to the ground of philosophy, my hip in the medical waste bin of Glasgow Royal Infirmary. 14% plastic and counting -- geriatric brainiac and compulsive NHS malingering fool (M, 81), looking for richer, older sex-starved woman on the brink of death to exploit and ruin every replacement operation I've had since 1974. Box 7648 (quickly, the clock's ticking, and so is this pacemaker).
10. Reply to this advert, then together we can face the harsh realities of my second mortgage. M, 38, would like to meet woman to 70 with active credit cards. Box no. 8624.
11. Shy, ugly man, fond of extended periods of self-pity, middle-aged, flatulent and overweight, seeks the impossible. Box no. 8623.
12. So many men to chose from. So few vitamin supplements. Arthritic F, 73. Box no 7297.
13. They call me Naughty Lola. Run-of-the-mill beardy physicist (M, 46). Box. 4023.
14. This is a terrifying world. I am the only worthy edifice in it. You are probably a tree. You know what I'm saying. Man, 35. Box no. 7213.
15. Unashamed, triumphalist male for the past 46 years. Will I bore you? Probably. Do I care? Probably not. Box no. 4231.
16. When you do that voodoo that you do so well, I invoke 16th-century witchcraft laws and have you burned at the stake. No shenanigans with Quaker M, 39, at box no. 2741.

From They Call Me Naughty Lola: Personal Ads from the London Review of Books. Edited by David Rose. Published by Scribner.