Harry
CibbuanoFunny Personals Adverts
January 1st 2007 06:12
I donno if any of these personals adverts were necessarily successful, but they're sure good for a laugh. I found them all on London Review of Books.
Wreck needs salvaging. F, 60. Please help. Box no. 24/09
My success as a lover is matched only by my success in the field of astronomy. Man, 37. WLTM woman to 40 with eyes as big and as bright as those stars that come up over by the trees opposite my house at about 9pm every night, then every 15 minutes or so. You know the ones. I call them the Regular Magic Tree Stars. They may be comets. Or planes. Or something. Whatever. Write, we’ll have sex, you’ll love it. Box no. 24/03
I cannot guarantee you’ll fall in love with me, but I can promise you the best home-brewed beetroot wine you’ll have ever tasted. Now if that doesn’t sound like a fermentor bucket of yummy syphoned lustness I just don’t know what does. Man, 41. Stupid like wow! Box no. 24/04
Ball-breaking irrational F (52). Very probably just like your mother. Box no. 24/07
Bend over and show me your bottom. Collector of bearded stunt hobbits, 35 M, seeks F (to 50) curator of DIY curio for genuine aluminium stepladder action. People named Dubya, Osama, Sindy & Barbie needn't apply. Blow-up dolls excluded unless they come with their own puncture repair kit. Box no. 01/01
Loaded tax exile Channel Islands resident seeks attractive well preserved soul mate. No objection to modest gold digger age around 25 below 40 a definite advantage. If you smoke it’s the garage. Tel 01481238667
Just as chugging on a bottle of White Lightning on a park bench will make you nauseous and diminish the respect of your peers, yet taking just a glass of cold cider on a barmy summer evening will quench your thirst and take you back to heady days frolicking in West Country apple orchards, so it is with this ad. Man, 37. Refreshing in small sips where the delicate nuances of Somerset burst through full and flavoursome, but anything bigger and you’ll end up puking over your own shoes and smelling of wee Box no. 01/02
When eventually calming down after a heated argument involving smashed plates, thrown cutlery, insults directed at your circus side-show of a family, and emotionally destructive sex, you should know now that I’m very unlikely to participate in that ‘no, really, I’m sorry, it was my fault’ charade. You accept all of the blame all of the time or you grow gills to breathe in the stale, bitter soup of my angry and eternal silence. Cuddly F, 36, brown hair, green eyes, degree in geology Box no. 01/05
Ever woken up and wondered why you have that sinking feeling again? Ever stopped to think why everything seems so cold? Ever longed for the warmth of another? Ever just wanted to be able to give love and to receive a little love back? Ever married a homosexual? Well I have, buster, so save the sob-stories. Woman, 52, WLTM man to 60 willing to participate in an intense program of psychometric testing including, but not limited to, a polygraph and a lengthy discussion over wallpaper samples before we commit to any sort of relationship Box no. 01/06
Wreck needs salvaging. F, 60. Please help. Box no. 24/09
My success as a lover is matched only by my success in the field of astronomy. Man, 37. WLTM woman to 40 with eyes as big and as bright as those stars that come up over by the trees opposite my house at about 9pm every night, then every 15 minutes or so. You know the ones. I call them the Regular Magic Tree Stars. They may be comets. Or planes. Or something. Whatever. Write, we’ll have sex, you’ll love it. Box no. 24/03
I cannot guarantee you’ll fall in love with me, but I can promise you the best home-brewed beetroot wine you’ll have ever tasted. Now if that doesn’t sound like a fermentor bucket of yummy syphoned lustness I just don’t know what does. Man, 41. Stupid like wow! Box no. 24/04
Ball-breaking irrational F (52). Very probably just like your mother. Box no. 24/07
Bend over and show me your bottom. Collector of bearded stunt hobbits, 35 M, seeks F (to 50) curator of DIY curio for genuine aluminium stepladder action. People named Dubya, Osama, Sindy & Barbie needn't apply. Blow-up dolls excluded unless they come with their own puncture repair kit. Box no. 01/01
Loaded tax exile Channel Islands resident seeks attractive well preserved soul mate. No objection to modest gold digger age around 25 below 40 a definite advantage. If you smoke it’s the garage. Tel 01481238667
Just as chugging on a bottle of White Lightning on a park bench will make you nauseous and diminish the respect of your peers, yet taking just a glass of cold cider on a barmy summer evening will quench your thirst and take you back to heady days frolicking in West Country apple orchards, so it is with this ad. Man, 37. Refreshing in small sips where the delicate nuances of Somerset burst through full and flavoursome, but anything bigger and you’ll end up puking over your own shoes and smelling of wee Box no. 01/02
When eventually calming down after a heated argument involving smashed plates, thrown cutlery, insults directed at your circus side-show of a family, and emotionally destructive sex, you should know now that I’m very unlikely to participate in that ‘no, really, I’m sorry, it was my fault’ charade. You accept all of the blame all of the time or you grow gills to breathe in the stale, bitter soup of my angry and eternal silence. Cuddly F, 36, brown hair, green eyes, degree in geology Box no. 01/05
Ever woken up and wondered why you have that sinking feeling again? Ever stopped to think why everything seems so cold? Ever longed for the warmth of another? Ever just wanted to be able to give love and to receive a little love back? Ever married a homosexual? Well I have, buster, so save the sob-stories. Woman, 52, WLTM man to 60 willing to participate in an intense program of psychometric testing including, but not limited to, a polygraph and a lengthy discussion over wallpaper samples before we commit to any sort of relationship Box no. 01/06
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