Finding a Soulmate for $1.85 a Word

Today, the Globe and Mail printed extracts from a book recently published by the London Review of Books - a collection of lonely-hearts ads printed in the magazine over the last couple of years, called They Call Me Naughty Lola. Far from the high-minded, serious adverts expected, the classified ads placed were overwhelmingly low-brow - and freakin' hilarious. Here's a selection:

You're a brunette, 6', long legs, 25-30, intelligent, articulate and drop-dead gorgeous. I, on the other hand, am 4'10", have the looks of Herve Villechaize and carry an odour of wheat. No returns and no refunds at Box no. 3321.

If we share a bath together I have to insist on wearing verruca socks. Woman, 36, still reeling from a school swimming incident in 1975 (six months of padded plasters isn't easy to get over). Box no. 3186.

These ads try too hard to be funny. Not me, I'm a natural. Juggling, monkey-faced idiot (M, 36). Box no. 5312.

I'm just a girl who can't say 'no' (or 'anaesthetist'). Lisping Rodgers and Hammerstein fan, female lecturer in politics (37) WLTM man to 40 for thome enthanted eveningth. Box no. 2498.

My other car is a bike. Eco-friendly bio-diverse M (29). Smells a bit like soil and eats too much soup, but otherwise friendly (you're not seriously going to put that burger in your mouth, are you?). Box no. 8563.

I am the literary event of 2007, or at the very least the most entertaining drunk on my ward. Please visit (Mon-Thurs, 5-7 p.m., bring chocolate, and gin). F, 41. Box no. 4365.

My animal passions would satisfy any woman, if only it weren't for the filibustering of this damned colon. And the chafing of these infernal hospital sheets. Write now to M, 83, for ward visiting hours and a list of approved solids. Box no. 2377.

Unashamed triumphalist male for the past 46 years. Will I bore you? Probably. Do I care? Probably not. Box no. 4002.

They call me Naughty Lola. Run-of-the-mill beardy physicist (M, 46). Box no. 4023.

I want my mummy. Man (37) with far too many issues to go into detail about in this column seeks psychoanalyst/tailor/stevedore. Whitstable. Box no. 0566.

In a certain light I look like Robert Mitchum. In a certain light you look like Kim Novak. More usually I look like Shrek. More usually you still look like Kim Novak. Yes, you're very unlucky. Now pass me the Doritos and get over it. Box no. 3917.

My favourite Ben & Jerry's is Acid-Boiled Bones of Divorce Lawyer. The don't yet make it, but damn, I can taste its sweet, sweet ice-creamy softness already. Bed-sit-living doctor (M, 54). Box no 6321.

OMG! This magazine is the shizz! Seriously, dudes. Awesome! LOL! Classics lecturer (M, 48). Possibly out of his depth with today's youth. KTHX! Box no. 2680.