I'm Mr Right. You're Miss Distinct Possibility: The lonely hearts ads of the literati
By DAVID ROSE
Last updated at 8:14 AM on 5th October 2010
Last updated at 8:14 AM on 5th October 2010
I am Mr Right. You are Miss Distinct Possibility. Man, 51
Tall, handsome, well-built, articulate, intelligent, 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-populate woodland.
I put the phrase ‘five-header bisexual orgy’ in this ad to increase my Google hits. Really, I’m looking for someone who likes hearty soups and jigsaws of kittens. Woman, 62, Berwick.
Think of every sexual partner you’ve ever had. I’m nothing like them. Unless you’ve ever slept with a bulimic German cellist called Else. Else: bulimic German cellist. (F, 37).
My hobbies include crying and hating men.
Angry organic window-box farmer (M, 51, Hersham), seeking green- fingered, red-eyed, purple-standing-out-on-forehead-veined woman for evenings of primal scream therapy among the pots of flat-leaf parsley. Must own trowel.
Mentally, I’m a size 8. Compulsive-eating F, 52, WLTM man to 25 for whom the phrase ‘beauty is only skin-deep’ is both a lifestyle choice and a religious ethos.
Man, 46. Animal in bed. Probably a gnu
I am Mr Right. You are Miss Distinct Possibility. Man, 51.
Woman, 36, would like to meet a man who doesn’t try to high-five her after sex.
Young, charming, thoughtful, attractive, sporty, zesty, intelligent. None of these are me, but if you’d like to spend an afternoon or more considering alternative adjectives to be applied to a cantankerous 53-year-old, write now to Box No.0927.
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. Man, 41.
Rich, old buggers about to peg it write to attractive nubile young filly.
This advert is about as close as I come to meaningful interaction with other adults. Woman, 51. Not good at parties but tremendous breasts.
If you're reading this hoping for a mini-biopic about battles with drugs, cancer and divorce, talk to the guy above. But if you want to know about historical battle sites in Scotland, talk to me. Alan, 45. Scottish historical battle expert.
Man, 46. Animal in bed. Probably a gnu.
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.1123.
Man, 41. Not the sharpest sandwich at the picnic.
Lonely? A yearning heart? Tell it to someone who gives a damn. Out there/over here U.S. academic woman, unsentimental but strong like an ox. Can break hearts as well as snap chicken necks. WLTM weak, inconsolable man who knows when he’s beat (that’s you, fella).
Former Miss World sought by trainee old perv (76).
Forty years ago I was going to marry Elvis — at 56 my expectations are lower. The least you can do is try to meet them. If you’re over 4ft 10in tall, it’s a start.
Man ahead of his time (aged 328 Earth years). Join me in my Chiswick time machine and together we can blast into a future of love, lust and microwavable trousers.
My hobbies include crying and hating men
There is only one recorded instance of an elephant being sentenced to death by hanging. It was Mary, a circus elephant, in Erwin, Tennessee, in September 1916. At the first attempt, the chain placed around her neck snapped under the poor beast’s great weight, but the second try was all too successful. Woman, currently researching animal public executions, seeks man to 40 for nights of gentle sobbing while shaking clenched fists at the ceiling. Must have own car.
I celebrated my 40th birthday last week by cataloguing my collection of bird-feeders. Next year I’m hoping for sexual intercourse. And a cake. Join my invite mailing list at Box No.6831
Marry me and I’ll grant you access to the finest collection of mounted albino tiger barbs this side of Gloucester. Osteopath and weekend taxidermist. (M, 43).
Woman, 35. Happily married until husband sponsored an African village goat in her name as a birthday gift. WLTM man to 40 for whom the phrase ‘I’d really like a pair of diamond earrings’ isn’t meant ironically.
All humans are 99.9 per cent genetically identical, so don’t even think of ending any relationship begun here with ‘I just don’t think we have enough in common’. Science has long since proven I’m the man for you (41, likes to be referred to as ‘Wing Commander’ in the bedroom).
I have a mug that says ‘World’s Greatest Lover’. I think that’s my referees covered. How about you? Man, 37, Bishopsgate.
I am more like the Grand Duke Nicholas Mikhailovich of Russia than anyone else who has ever advertised here. Man, 54.
Rippling hunk of a guy, washboard stomach, blond, blue-eyed, not-quite 50, WLTM woman with open mind and some experience of taking hallucinogens.
They said the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Disqualified surgeon (F, 32), a touch on the literal side maybe, seeks man for nights of complete misunderstanding.
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