Well, it is Monday and work is busy as all hell so it must be time for some more small ads from the London Review of Books....
‘I always begin the LRB at the personals. Then I drink. Then I weep. Then I move on to the articles. I drink some more. I weep some more. Then I hit the letters page. You can see where I am heading here? That’s right, it’s straight to the claims court and if these personal ads don’t get any better I’m going to sue each and every one of you. Depressed, anxious, alcoholic M (41) means business, so does his legal representation (M, 38, cha-cha enthusiast and M, 42, bit of chubster but cute to boot). Box no. 23/03’
‘Mimi, 64, WLTM man whose first name is composed entirely of Roman numeral letters. You must also have a degree in advanced mathematics and be very well-endowed. Box no. 23/10’
‘ “That’s soooo funny,” I said, and wedged his biscotti vertically in his over-confidant mouth. Edgy woman (my age is my business) promises to meet future courtiers in a public place with not so many potential weapons. Send photo for list of things you’re not allowed to mention to box no. 22/07’
‘These ads always seem too preoccupied with shoehorning in song lyrics. Not me, I’m the cat that won’t cop out when there’s danger all about. Complicated man (49) - no one understands me but my woman (that’s you, bad mother to 50 with big hair and bigger grits). Shut your mouth then write to box no. 22/06’
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment