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Archive for the ‘David Rose’ Category

Sexually, I’m More of a Switzerland edited by David Rose is a follow-up to the successful They Call Me Naughty Lola, both volumes of amusingly odd personal ads from the London Review of Books.  I’m sure there are many perfectly normal ads in the LRB but reading them would be no fun as they’re certainly meant in earnest.  It’s difficult to get proper amusement from people looking for true connections.  Thankfully, there seems to be a never-ending supply of people willing to invest time and money into composing hilarious blurbs (probably in many cases with the express hope of seeing them published in a volume like this).  Here are a few of my favourites to brighten up your day: 

Tall, handsome, well-built, articulate, intelligent, sensitive, yet often grossly inaccurate man, 21.  Cynics (and some cheap Brentwood psychiatrists) may say ‘pathological liar’, but I like to use ‘creative with reality’.  Join me in my 36-bedroomed mansion on my Gloucestershire estate, set in 400 acres of wild-stag populated woodland. (p. 23)

Catterich Ladies’ Circle.  I don’t want to meet on Tuesday mornings anymore.  I don’t want to take the dictation for Kate’s obituary notice in the paper.  I don’t want to start the Christmas lights petition.  I really don’t like golf – I don’t understand it and all that waiting around hurts my knees.  I don’t want my photograph taken with you all for the local paper, celebrating our ‘fun walk’ for the blind.  I don’t want a video intercom installed to ‘make me feel more secure’ – it’s not really like the Bronx here just yet.  I know all about the benefits of a high fibre diet – please don’t make me listen to the man from the well-woman clinic giving a talk about it.  I’m glad that the grandchildren never visit; they smell and have terrible manners.  I know you all mean well – but I want to behave inappropriately with a man half my age and be the rumour that opens the meeting I’ll be absent from next Tuesday morning.  (p. 113)

The finest mind in the academic world conceived this ad, but it was his secretary who took two and a half hours out of her day to collate his angst-ridden ramblings, phone the LRB and pay for it with her own money.  He’s basically looking for an affair with a twenty-something idiot tart who needs good grades.  I’m looking for a better job, a decent pension package, and a man to 50 who’s great in bed and doesn’t make condescending comments about every damn book I read.  Man, 57.  Or his secretary, 43. (p. 64)

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