I’m derailing this thread like a champ 
Just pretend you are either northern English or southern Scottish, and drop every other consonant in sort of a random fashion. Or just add some. Then you’ll say it right.
Cases in point.
Gah that last one makes me pull my hair out. There is a fucking L and a W!!!
What do you call a wholesome turkey with duck shoved up it’s ass and a littler chicken up the ass of the duck?
##Culinary Marxism.
My favourite is Burgh-by-Sands.
Hardly anyone gets that shibboleth right without having been local at some point
There’s also Aspatria - the first and last A are silent if you are local.
Let’s not even talk about attracting boys to the yard with certain milkshake beverages.
Total stab in the dark.
Am I even close?
Bruff by Sands (or just Bruff) and SPAT-ree
I’m always surprised that so many people can’t get Burgh by Sands right. It’s where Edward I of England died.
Close on the second one, missed the first by a mile.
My favorite sign on the islands was in Wales. It said, “ENGLISH INVADERS GO THAT WAY —>”
Sedbergh. Pronounced sayvr, with a short vowel.
At one time locals pronounced Sawbridgeworth sarchwth, but I don’t know if they still do (not visited in over 50 years).
That really brightens my day. One last derail before a lunchtime, holiday pint.
The first time I was in Scotland I promised to call my mother. So I did, and I told her I was in a town called “Hay-wick”. After the short and expensive phone call, a very Dapper older gentleman approached me and said something to the effect of:
" You seem to be a nice young lad, not from around here. The locals pronounce it Hoyk, not Hay-wick. Have a lovely afternoon!"
I was absolutely charmed. Then a few hours later me, my wife, and a friend went to the Queens Head and played Rolling Stones covers all night.
And after that we drunkenly had a Kebab, which was a major mistake.
No, see, those aren’t actually families… I mean, @frauenfelder and @doctorow actually treat their daughters with respect and allow them to do things that aren’t baking and playing with dolls. So, they’re doing it wrong, ya see! /s
Damn right, it’s better than yours! 
Hay!! Baking is fun for kids of all ages!!
Did you ever go to Kirkcudbright?
No, I have always taken the road North from Dumfries. But now that you mention I’ve got to get my ass to the Hough of Urr–what kind of name is that!?
OK, gave this one 24 hours leave without notice.
No.
That’s the easiest one: It’s Willammit, dammit.
(ninja’d the missing extra “m”)
You are absolutely correct.
Will-uh-Met-Eee always sticks in my craw.
Even though I’m a vagina-haver, this is still grossing me out, and the reasons why are:
So basically, while I acknowledge the microbiological truth, I just don’t think this is about microbiological truth. It’s about taboos, and the context.
If I ever try making sourdough, I’ll just be using what comes from the air. I know some of what’s in the air came from me, but it’ll be the air’s by the time it winds up in the starter.
Some taboos (most if not all) are pretty laughable.
Humans are comical creatures.
