Saturday, September 02, 2006

For those of you not playing volleyball and reading Harry Potter...

I forgot to mention that in his op-ed piece, Rumsfeld made a big deal about Guantanamo having volleyball and basketball courts and that the inmates are all reading Harry Potter. Does anyone truly believe (as Rummy would say) that Gitmo prisoners are allowed to use the volleyball and basketball courts?

I’m sitting by the computer waiting to pounce on any juicy news this holiday weekend, but so far not a dicky bird. Also, the change to Beta Blogger seems to have cut my readership way down, possibly because there’s a new RSS feed and the old feed may or may not be working for everybody, and of course I have no way of contacting them to tell them that, and did I mention how annoyed I’m getting with Beta Blogger?

Or possibly my stats are low because my readers are all at the beach, playing volleyball and basketball and reading Harry Potter.

Anyway, while we’re waiting for someone to do something for me to mock, here are some London Review of Books (LRB) personal ads (for those of you looking for that special someone to
play volleyball and basketball and read Harry Potter with). The complete collection of my favorites is here.
Estella, 42, seeks Pip. Low expectations. Box. No. 17/03

I am not as high maintenance as my highly polished and impeccably arranged collection of porcelain cats suggests, but if you touch them I will kill you. F, 36. Likes porcelain cats. Seeks man not unused to the sound of sobbing coming from a bedroom from which he is strictly prohibited. Tell me how attractive I am at box no. 16/08

6.10 am, January 19, 1977. Snow falls for the first time on West Palm Beach. The snow spreads to Fort Lauderdale by 8.30am, continuing south to Miami and Homestead. At Crandon Park Zoo, heat lamps are brought in to protect the iguanas. True story. Man (35) incapable of making any point whatsoever would like to meet woman to 40 for nights of awkward smiles and petering off mid-sentence. Box no. 16/05

I’m placing this ad against my better judgment. But then the last time I listened to my better judgment it told me the only way to find a well-read articulate man to 45 was to hide in a bin outside his flat until he arrived home from work then lunge wildly at him as he struggled to put the key in his door. If the ad doesn’t work, keep your bins inside until collection day. Woman. 40. Tactile and cuddly in a mildly terrifying sort of way. Box no. 17/06

When the authorities eventually remove this covert recording device from my brain, they’ll be able to download not only the most profound musings on the universe ever conceived by man but also possibly the whereabouts of my car keys. Until then paranoid amateur tailor (M, 37, Warwickshire) remains unable to take these cross-stitch manuals back to the library. The chirps and whistles aren’t getting any quieter, and the fines aren’t getting any smaller, but this dog-fur suit is sewing up a storm at box no. 17/09 That’s not revulsion you’re feeling right now – it’s passion (or possibly it is revulsion).

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think this personal advert puts me firmly on the map. Box no. 17/10

Shepherd of Love seeks F to 45 free of scrapie, pinkeye and Caseous Lymphadenitis. Vet (M, 43). Little experience of human contact outside the farming communities of Pembs. Box no. 16/01

‘Good news! My favourite flavour of crisp is in production again!’ If this is a sentiment you have ever expressed or conceived in adulthood, you needn’t write. You know who you are. F, 32. Box no. 16/09

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