Nigella's squigy bites

I know we’re not meant to take her seriously, but I really have to question how the lovely Nigella gets away with her TV show. Or Nigellissima as she now calls herself.

To start with, she can’t really cook.

Well, I suppose that is a matter of comparison. I mean, she can cook better than Little Chef, or your average Glaswegian council tenant – or my Mum. But it’s not really cooking, is it?

Buy a loaf of bread, break it up into crumbs and add some pistachio nuts and a bottle of sherry, put it in the oven and go and have a bath! Then when you get out, smother it suggestively with whipped cream, and all the boys are drooling.

This week she did an Italian Christmas dinner which, by her own admission, wasn’t Italian at all.

That’s like having a Turkish kebab instead of a turkey. Where’s the relevance in that?

But it doesn’t matter does it? As long as she uses words that would make your granny blush.

'Mmmmm...' *licks spoon suggestively* 'Let’s take out our cake with its whipped cream and cut it into voluptuous slices.'

Voluptuous?

FFS!

That word alone just woke up granddad with stirrings from within his incontinence pants. Since when did such a word describe anything other than a barmaid in full-frontal?

Not that I’m counting, but three times in one show she uses it!

Then we get the word squigy. Where does that come from? And why use it in every third sentence?

When I speak, it is the words of a farmer. When I write, it is the words of enforced literary correction, albeit they are often in the wrong order. But would I really get away with using made-up words and continuous innuendo if I presented a TV show?

Could I really stand there with a straight face and suggestively talk about squigy breasts and hairy chestnuts – and get away with it?

No, because I don’t have a double-D-cup and a seductive smile.

But then, compared to the cocky-cockney with his mega-funky, harmonious, scummy, proper-rustic dollops of bullshit, at least it’s entertainment!