My husband, bless his heart, knows that I'm an Anglophile from way back. Anything British, particularly the things I remember of my two nanas, tickles me like nothing else. He knows I would move to London in a heartbeat, but since that's not in the cards, he likes to load me up with All Things British every Christmas. This year, he got me a copy of the London Review of Books.
The book reviews themselves are fairly highbrow and eclectic.
However, the real highlights for me are the personal ads on the last page. After skimming through the other ads for book sellers with names like RIPPING YARNS and SKOOB BOOKS, auditions for a TV show called TRIBAL WIVES where they send middle-class women to live with a remote tribal community for a month (unfortunately only open to Brits) and holiday villas in France, I came across the personals. Worth the price of a subscription.