Just for the hell of it, I’m going to dive into the murky waters of proper pronunciation of words, using this stupid article as a kick-off:
Experts from Unscramblerer.com have revealed the UK’s most mispronounced words.
‘Our research about the most searched for mispronunciations gives an interesting insight into United Kingdom’s culture,’ a spokesperson for the site explained.
‘Exposure to new words through media, music, pop culture and social platforms drives curiosity.
‘People often look up pronunciations if there is a gap between how a word or name is spelled and how it sounds.’
Yeah, well if we’re talking about actual English, fair enough. But then the idiotic writer lists a few words that aren’t actually English but Gaelic, and they’re names withal — which means I don’t care if I’m mispronouncing them. (If people want to foist on their children names that contain more vowels than consonants, or vice-versa, they should either stay in their home country or accept the fact that outside fucking Ireland, nobody will know how to pronounce Naimh, Saoirse, Eowyn or Aoife.)
I think David Mitchell has the right idea.
Even better is that when it comes to foreign words used in English, the article contains one egregious example of silliness. I refer here to the word “gyro”, which according to the DM is supposed to be pronounced “yee-roh” — except that it isn’t. The proper pronunciation is “chee-ro”, the soft ch consonant pronounced as in the Scottish word for lake, loch (and not lock, either). I will confess to using yeeroh on occasion, but only because the person to whom I’m speaking may not know what the hell I’m talking about, and the essence of communication is that the other person can understand what you’re saying.
And I don’t want to talk about gyros anymore, because just the thought of that peppery grilled lamb meat stuck in a soft (never crispy — that’s Mexican) pita bread with tzatziki sauce and tomato makes me want to eat a dozen of them. (Back in my pro musician days in Johannesburg, there was a little Mediterranean snack bar called the Paradise Restaurant which sold said delicacies on a 24-hour basis and which were my staple after-gig food. Great Caesar’s aching stomach, how I miss them.)
Where was I? Oh yeah, pronunciation.
Until quite recently, I didn’t even know what this “acai” stuff was; I thought it was some kind of vegan shit. Also, “Qatar” is some oily Muzzie shithole that one flies through en route* to somewhere decent, so I don’t give a rat’s ass how it’s “properly” pronounced.
And if you don’t know how to say the word “spaghetti” then you shouldn’t be allowed to vote.

*that’s “ahn root” and not “ehn rowt”, you fucking peasants.



