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.
*Mule seeks ponytail for games of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey.
*Reformed trapeze-performing reprobate (F39) seeks creative, sane(ish), trampy-looking (but non-smelling) boy for sober fun!
*Gravy is my biggest weakness. M, 34.
*I’m tired of sexually propositioning attractive young men in airport bathrooms. What I’d like now is a handsome blonde filly to 35. Military legend (58, retired). Hampshire.
*I’d sooner indulge my dangerous hi-fibre diet obsession than contribute yet another churlish whimsy to this column. Yet I am alone, and need to smell a lady’s head. Man, 54.
*I am the Frida Kahlo of both personal adverts and sandwich artistry. Woman, 48. Mad as a balloon.
*There’s usually an atmosphere of dread when I show up at a party. Not so the next one, when you accompany me as both my groom to be and my designated driver. Easily drunk, garrulous F, 41, prone to molesting the teenage sons of suburban dinner party hosts and crying over the petit fours. WLTM sober expert in public apology to 50.
*Male seeks woman to read The Hobbit with, Humans and Elves only, no Goblins please.
*Celibacy sucks; let's get it licked. James, 46.