JON CARROLL

My theory is that British people, particularly educated British people, are raised to appreciate irony. Or perhaps they are embued with an extremely peculiar sense of humor. Or perhaps I am generalizing from an extremely tiny sample in order to find meaning in this dark and increasingly hostile world.

How do you like my sense of humor so far? Want to meet for coffee, conversation, a long walk on the beach?

I have recently been made aware of the personals ads in the London Review of Books. These are unlike such ads elsewhere. I thought it might be good to use some American ads to serve as a contrast, so I went to Match.com. In order to see its ads, I had to sign up - not put up an ad, just register. So up comes the first page of prospects, and there's someone I know. Yow.

And the prose in those ads is all so sincere and guarded and needy, in the American "please like me" sort of way that British authors delight in skewering. I don't have the heart to quote any of them, because that might make a vulnerable person feel even worse. I'm an American too!

But you know the sort of thing: Seeks more fulfilling life, enjoys the outdoors and trips to Mexico, loves Thai food; I have a good heart and am very self-sufficient and yet tender-hearted. And so forth, sometimes at mind-bending length.

By contrast, we have the following ads. They're all real, and similar ones may be found at lrb.co.uk/classified/:

"I begin each sexual performance with a tympani roll. I find it steadies the ship. Less than buoyant canal-boat dweller, amateur percussionist and bon viveur (M, 57) seeks not-easily intimidated woman to 55 with no small knowledge of crank-shaft engines, blue-note fades and behaviour-correcting medicines. Box no. 12/03."

"Some incidents in life are blacked-out for a reason. Much as I shudder to recall an incident at Dulwich in 1968 involving a goose, a penny whistle and the local priest, so you will probably twist in the wind whenever, in years to come, you are forced to relate a tale about how you once replied to a personal advert in a flurry of mis-placed appreciation for what you regarded at the time as a heightened and sophisticated sense of irony. Man, 40. Hates geese. And priests. And whistling. Box no. 12/05."

"This advert is about as close as I come to meaningful interaction with other adults. Woman, 51. Not good at parties but tremendous breasts. Box no. 12/08."

"This advert may well be the Cadillac of all lonely hearts adverts, but its driver is the arthritic granddad with a catalogue of driving convictions. Arthritic granddad (67) with a catalogue of driving convictions including 'Driving whilst trying to turn the dang wipers off,' 'Driving whilst wondering if his urology appointment has come through,' and 'Driving whilst "Hey! Isn't that where your aunt Maude's first husband lived after the divorce came through? He's settled in Jersey now. I could never stand him - he used to do this thing with his teeth." ' WLTM someone who knows how to stop the oven timer from beeping. Box no. 01/01."

"Don't listen to your inner voice in matters of the heart! Especially if your inner voice tells you to check his outgoing message box for evidence of a wife or ask why he always needs to be on the last train to Stafford instead of just staying the night. It's a simple rule, but it's a rule that will give us many happy - if somewhat tawdry - experiences together. Man, 38. Not in the slightest bit married. Remember that. Box no. 01/05."

"I stole the contents of this ad from a highly successful banker (M, 53, annual income £500k + benefits) currently appearing on Match.com. It's funny because we honestly couldn't be more different. Unless I was a woman. Or 12. Man. Older than 12 and not really a banker. Box no. 01/06."

"To the guy with the wild grey hair and thin pony tail and bow-tie and white socks and chewed copy of Rimbaud and the lisp and excessive spittle and over-use of the word 'platitudes' and faint odour of taco meat who will no doubt reply to this advert much like he's replied to every other advert I've ever placed in here: 'Eccentric' is only a favourable adjective when it's wrapped in an attractive package or earns over £200,000 a year and owns a holiday retreat in Tuscany. Other LRB-reading men should also note this. Replies from 'normals' or the stupidly rich only please to woman, 45, currently down to 37 seconds on her 'tolerance of idiots' meter. Box no. 01/08."

"My last husband was a loser. If you're not a loser please reply. Woman, 40. Incredibly simple criteria. Box no. 01/09."