The latest winners from the Personals section of the London Review of Books:
You were tanked-up on absinthe at the Rimbaud discussion in the LR Bookshop. The curl of your hair and the hole in your tights led me to believe it was neither the first nor the last time. But my god did I love you. Man, 42. I’m afraid next time I won’t be able to lend you the taxi fare home. Box no. 19/10
Put a sock in it! Now two shots of rum. OK, some fresh-squeezed O.J. And some Lego. Surrealist cocktail-maker and bar-fly guerrilla (M,35) seeks lady-friend to sample the chewiest Bloody Marys and the messiest kitchen work surfaces this side of the Humber. Box no 19/11
“I was in the war you know”. These and other tales of mind-numbing emptiness from incontinent father (81) of ‘ungrateful turd’ of a son (46) stupid enough not to change the locks on his Barnstead semi back in 1991 when his wife and kids were still with him and nursing home saving schemes had yet to go tits up. Kick me at box no. 20/06
Either you’re Diane Lane or you’re not Diane Lane. Don’t toy with me. Man, 71. Likes Diane Lane. Box no. 19/09
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