They call me naughty Lola is a fabulous summer read. It is a collection of personal ads from the London Review of Books. All I can say is that they have a much better class of personals there. I laughed so loud at lunch that the kitchen staff sent someone over to see what I was reading.
Save it - anything you've got to say can be said to my lawyer. But if you're not my ex-wife why not write to box 5377. I enjoy vodka, canasta, evenings in and cold, cold, revenge.
Dress uplike a Viking and join me (M, 51) in my York farm dwelling. Not only will we experience crazy Jorvik mud-love, but we'll get local heritage intiative grant funding. Have cake - eat it. All at box 2187
Poet, 32. My career demands that you break my heart. It also demands that you buy all the drinks and have lots of strange sex with me. I'll give you an acknowledgement in my next volume, so it's not an entirely unrewarding relationship. Box 1873
My ideal woman is a man. Sorry, mother. Box 6221
Every Christmas, without fail, the LRB produces the biggest turkey. This year it's me - monocled, plaid festtoned gadabout, out of place in any relationship or century, that fails to recognise the comfort of a secure knickerbocker. Please help me. Man, possibly your embarrassing uncle, 51. Box 0563
