They Call Me Naughty Lola

VERY British personal ads from the London Review of Books. All are witty, many are pants-wettingly funny. Here’s a taste …

Bald, short, fat and ugly male, 53, seeks short-sighted woman with tremendous sexual appetite. Box no. 9612.

I’ll see you at the LRB singles night. I’ll be the one breathing heavily and stroking my thighs in the ‘art’ books. Asthmatic, varicosed F (93) seeks M to 30 with enough puff in him to push me uphill to the post office. This is not a euphemism. Box no. 4632.

I once found the perfect match in this column, but then it turned out to be an ad I’d written two years earlier that they’d forgotten to publish. Still, you have to admire my consistency. Man, 43. Consistent. Admiring. Admirable. Box no. 4321.

In a certain light I look like Robert Mitchum. In a certain light, you look like Kim Novak. More usually, I look like Shrek. More usually, you still look like Kim Novak. Yes, you’re very unlucky. Now pass me the Doritos and get over it. Box no. 3917.

My favorite Ben & Jerry’s is Acid-Boiled Bones of Divorce Lawyer. They don’t make it, but, damn, I can taste its sweet, sweet ice-creamy softness already. Bed-sit-living doctor (M, 54). Box no. 6321.

Shy, ugly man, fond of extended periods of self-pity, middle-aged, flatulent and overweight, seeks the impossible. Box no. 8623.

2 Replies to “They Call Me Naughty Lola”

  1. The author contrasts ads from the London Review of Books – ”rarely inhibited by positive thinking” – with their more optimistic counterparts in the New York Review of Books:

    FRISKY COUGAR, 84, seeks dude, 72 to 76, share walks from parking lots to doctors’ offices. Must like detailed descriptions of illnesses; enjoy matinee ”naps”; daytime driving essential; relishes grandchildren’s pictures. Limited flatulence, clacking teeth ok. Don’t anticipate LTR.

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