Sunday, September 06, 2009

While you think about that I shall remove my clothes

Well, I got nuthin’. Fortunately, there are always personal ads from the London Review of Books (the complete WIIIAI collection of LRB personals is here.)
Not very friendly woman seeks not very friendly man. Box no. 13.01

Without my grandfather’s contribution to agricultural reforms in 1912, this nation would currently have to import its turnips. While you think about that I shall remove my clothes. Man. 55. Box no. 16/02

I have a dream. And that dream is to try on every pair of shoes in the world. That’s where you come in: brusque, butch fem cobbler to 55 with expansive collection of animal skins and a strap-on. Man, 76. Box no. 16/03

I cast a magic spell on you. And now you are reading this advert in a literary magazine that exists only in your mind. Soon you will fall in love with me. When we meet, the odour will not concern you. Mr Mesmer: amateur hypnotist, professional shrimp-farmer (M, 51). Also available for weddings and birthdays. Box no. 16/05

The sweet smell of apples in the orchard carried on the warm, gentle breeze. A hushed moan, the curtains swish softly. Slowly my breasts come into focus. The goat bleats. The shackles tighten. And then the chanting starts again. Scary woman, 52, looking for a very specific type of ‘perfect Sunday’. Box no. 16/08

I flow like a harpoon daily and nightly. What does that mean? If the readings on my ambulatory blood pressure monitor are correct – and I think they are – it means I’m currently not allowed solids but I am allowed cuddles. Tactile man and lecturer in cultural studies, 52, patiently waiting for the hearing to return in his right ear. So much love to go around at Box no. 16/13

This advert is exactly what happens when you ignore the label’s warning and actually do ingest the Listerine. Idiot man, 38. Box no. 16/17

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