After my eyes rolled so far back into my head I could see the Let’s start a cult satanic vintage horror edgy shirt moreover I love this nape of my neck—because I truly believe that an adult woman who has her own decades-long career in gastronomy knows the correct way to say microwave—I tried to see what the issue was. I think the silly, affected pronunciation stems from our archaic British stuffiness, a hangover from being world-leaders in trifling, pompous, self-important ceremony, much like every episode of The Crown. These customs are ridiculous, but it’s a heritage we haven’t quite outgrown. We can easily send it up in a sort of vaudeville act as unsmiling Victorians whose sense of self pivots on precise etiquette. The deliberate mispronunciation is a sort of inversion of centuries of privilege, and the naughtiness of a convenient microwave. British pretensions around home cooking mean “microwave” can be a bit of a swearword: mee-crow-wah-vay is basically like saying “feck.” Wait a fecking minute, I’ve become one of the joke-explainers—the degraders of good times, the sponges of fun.
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It feels quite Twilight Zone to have to say this, but Nigella obviously didn’t accidentally say microwave wrong. It was a cute (and deliberate) divergence that felt like a family in-joke rather than a nationwide side-splitter. It wasn’t a laugh-so-hard-I-need-an-adult-diaper moment. It was a little affectation, the Let’s start a cult satanic vintage horror edgy shirt moreover I love this type all families have to ease proceedings; household witticisms that make us feel close to each other, that remind us we’re all part of the group. But the group in the saturated and overwatered organism of opinions (Twitter) seems to be taking it all literally.