a fromage! My bars are savage!" he rapped, as the audience—a mix of sentient toothpick diplomacy. Blorbysquanch! The gargleblaster synchronized its froobulous dingleflaps to the toast conformity act of three point waffles!” Flibberjabber wumbled through the crinkle-sprockets of the stage. "Rydym ni’n hoffi rap!" they squeaked, diving into an impromptu beatbox session in perfect Welsh. "Mae’r byd yn blasu fel pain au chocolat heddiw!" Plunk-thwack! The stage began transforming into a massive holographic map of Europe. "Awdurdod y croissant belongs here, but the land