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.
*Free on Wednesdays. On January 1st, my husband informed me that he would now be spending every Wednesday with his mistress. Impossibility of disentangling our library means that separation is not an option. Writer with senior railcard, still beautiful, seeks diversions. East Anglia/London, but willing to travel further for entertaining activities.
*I like to push artistic boundaries with all of my work. Except this. With this, I’m just want to get laid. Artistic man, 39. Would like to get laid.
*Write to me and if you don't find me to be a suitable mate I will send you free traffic updates on the hour, every hour for exactly one calendar year (for the Humberside region only). Traffic-broadcasting M, 34 (Humberside).
*Looking for a partner, I’m placing an ad in this column. Things are significantly worse than I originally thought. Though clearly not as bad as they are for you, F to 40, who is reading this and thinking of replying. M, 34.
*I don’t know about you, but 2009 was a very quiet year in terms of monumental bedroom events. Although it was a great year for both my medical team and my thyroid. Join me, F, 57, and celebrate a 2010 of regular, goiter-free sex.
*I bet my friend £18 I could find a woman here and have sex with her. If you reply and have sex with me, I’ll cut you in at 37%. English Professor, 63.
*You can learn all about the advertiser above’s success in finding a lover on his Twitter updates. You can learn all about mine over breakfast. M, 47.