'They call me naughty Lola. Run-of-the-mill beardy physicist (M, 46).' 'My ideal woman is a man. Sorry, mother.' Disaffiliated flaneur, jacked-up on Viagra and on the look-out for a contortionist trumpeter ran the first personal ad submitted to the London Review of Books. The quality has remained the same ever since, and it is now the world's funniest - and most erudite - lonely hearts column. Expectations of finding a suitable mate remain low, but it has produced a handful of marriages, many friendships and at least one divorce. Here the fruitiest of the ads are brought together for the first time. 'List your ten favourite albums...I just want to know if there's anything worth keeping when we finally break up. Practical, forward thinking man, 35.'