This second edition of Nicholas T. Parsons' The Joy of Bad Verse is accompanied by a new and expanded Introduction that considers the remarkable literary phenomenon of bad poetry down the ages and the remarkable chutzpah of its practitioners. It brings the theme up to date with the current eruption of "instapoetry" on Instagram, poetry happenings and other whimsical contributions to the tsunami of verse now washing over social media. This book celebrates such remarkable poets as Julia A. Moore, who was known as "The Sweet Singer of Michigan"; or Solyman Brown, the Laureate of American dentistry; or the Rev. E.E. Bradford whose wonderfully innocent raptures on (preferably naked) pubescent boys were praised by the Westminster Review as wholesome and uplifting. Of course the iconic figure of William McGonagall, "the Scottish Homer", is not neglected. To him and several others such as Martin Tupper, a forerunner of "Thought for the Day" and many an Anglican sermon, biographical sketches are dedicated. The chapter on "Limping Laureates" rescues from deserved obscurity several persons such as Alfred Austin who achieved this poorly remunerated, but sought after, status without actually being any good at writing poetry. In this world of wonders, wooden ideological verse (including the brown-nosing of political monsters in verse) jostles with banality, virtue-signalling and unintentional comedy. Not forgetting the contribution of real poets on an off day (Wordsworth's inimitable tribute to a stuffed owl), which, as the author says, lend a distinction to the genre. Auberon Waugh once lambasted modern poetry because it neither rhymed, scanned nor made sense. But here is a treasure trove of stuff to read out loud, stuff which mostly rhymes, if unfortunately, scans if the author was in the mood, and makes the sort of sense that leaves you gasping for more.

From border garrison of the Roman Empire to magnificent Baroque seat of the Habsburgs, Vienna's fortunes swung between survival and expansion. By the late nineteenth century it had become the western capital of the sprawling Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, but the twentieth century saw it degraded to a "hydrocephalus" cut off from its former economic hinterland. After the inglorious Nazi interlude, Vienna escaped from four-power-occupation in 1955 and began the long climb back to the prosperous and cultivated city of 1.7 million inhabitants that it is today. Even as a metropolis, Vienna always retained a sense of intimacy, and sometimes of intellectual and spiritual claustrophobia. This "village" has been a crucible of creativity from the glittering arts and music of Habsburg and noble patronage to the libidinous hothouse of Freud's fin-de-siecle society, with all its brilliance and ambivalence. Subjected to constant infusions of new blood from the Empire, and now from the former imperial territories and beyond, Vienna has both assimilated and resisted cultural influences from outside, creating its own sui generis culture. DUCAL AND IMPERIAL CITY: Magnet for genius in architecture, the fine arts, music, literature, as well as administration. "Viennese by choice" - a notion that includes Walther von der Vogelweide, Metastasio, Salieri, Gluck, Mozart, Beethoven, Van Swieten, Metternich, Theodor Herzl and Karl Kraus - to name but a few. CITY OF SURVIVORS: a civilization submerged in waves of migrating tribes, a buffer town between the German Emperor's territories and rival Slavs or Magyars; finally the bulwark of Christianity in resistance to Ottoman expansion over three centuries up to 1683. And in the Cold War, a neutral space for spies and diplomats between competing power blocs. CITY OF PAST AND PRESENT: Loden coats and laptops, progressive politics and reactionary piety, ancient rituals (slow food in the Heurigen and Beisln, Sunday walks in the Wienerwald or Schonbrunn Park) and modern rhythms in lifestyle and work.