The London Review of Books is Britain's most esteemed literary magazine. Published fortnightly, it features essays, reviews and the most outrageous personal ads ever set in type. The following is a selection from the latest issue.
*Female, 34. All own limbs. Seeks man with low priorities.
email: godofcamels@hotmail.co.uk
email: godofcamels@hotmail.co.uk
*My therapist has given me such a good rate I can afford to indulge my bouts of infidelity and still deal elegantly with my guilt. Attached but unfaithful London male 60 seeks female counterpart. I promise an intensity of sexual joy unexpected in the LRB.
email: guiltfreeguy@gmail.com
email: guiltfreeguy@gmail.com
*Alas, my “Why Mahler?” advert lacked clarity: responses from women, lovely women, but women nevertheless. And I am a woman seeking a 60ish man, as described in the advert. Male responses welcomed.
email: BritLit1950@gmail.com
email: BritLit1950@gmail.com
*So ouroboros has finally caught up with these ads. Not so me, M, 37, whom you’ll still find chewing through vegetarian nacho combos and nothing else at retail park restaurants across the North West long after this column has devoured its own head. I’ll be the one beneath the ‘Le Chat Noir’ poster refusing to pronounce ‘sangiovese’ correctly and challenging the waiter to fisticuffs.
box no: 02/01
box no: 02/01
*American, M, early 70s though most don't believe it. Credit goes to the Canadian Air Force drills that have started my days for 35 years. A creature of habit, and so hope to continue to take my women in olive tones.
email: m70olivetones@yahoo.com
email: m70olivetones@yahoo.com
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