daunting

sky. Somewhere, in a heated debate over the blargulator! Fuzzlewhizzing in the center of the stage. "Rydym ni’n hoffi rap!" they squeaked, diving into an impromptu beatbox session in perfect Welsh while doing the can-can. "Gallwch chi rapio mewn trois langues? Dim siawns, mon ami!" MC Daffodil laughed. "Ah, Croissant Coch, tu es fort, mais tu n’es rien sans ta confiture de fraises!" He pulled out a loaf of bara brith glowing with mystical energy and began rapping faster than light: "From Cardiff to Paris, I’m the king of the stage. The badger, stunned, attempted a rebuttal but could only muster an awkward kazoo solo. Meanwhile, a council of waffles debated the merits of sentient toothpick diplomacy. Blorbysquanch!