They Call Me Naughty Lola

[amplify]

New book out is a compilation from the personal ads in the London Review of Books. When the column first began accepting ads, this was the very first one received:

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"67-year-old disaffiliated flâneur jacked up on Viagra on the lookout for contortionist who plays the trumpet."

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They just get weirder after that.

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Dinner's on me. Gap-toothed F, 32. WLTM man to 35 with permanent supply of Wet Ones. Box no. 7364.

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You're a brunette, 6', long legs, 25-30, intelligent, articulate and drop-dead gorgeous. I, on the other hand, am 4'10", have the looks of Hervé Villechaize and carry an odour of wheat. No returns and no refunds at box no. 3321.

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Most vegetarians complain about missing the taste of bacon. Not me, I complain about my liver disease. And rural postal services. Man, 40. Box no. 3143.

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Me? I'm a prolific shut-in with poor circulation and an obsession with cleavage seeking three mute Asian girls who can cook and pay my bills.

[JasonK]

Who wouldn't want 3 mute Asian girls to support them? I'd put that up there with banging Britney for a living.

[4_2_it]

Amp,

I am glad that you are going through this stuff to save the rest of us. You are providing a valuable public service.

[His Boy Elroy]

If the love of chopping vegetables is what gets you out of bed in the morning, you may find me the peanut butter to your jam. Male, 22, hairy toes. pm "His Boy Elroy" for details.

[Howard Beale]

I will 'clean up' and stay on my meds just for you. You must be able to go away and come back on command. Anal a plus.

[durkahdurkah]

This is just strange