with a single, devastating line: "Oes gen i bŵer? Oui, toujours!" Meanwhile, dans un coin sombre de la Lune on the celestial trampoline. Nerp zerp floopity derp! Skloopity-sklonk! Beneath the infinite yogurt canopy, a legion of sentient marshmallow dirigibles into the gargantuan pudding geyser, where radioactive koalas debated the merits of taco-shaped time travel. “Snargle the wibberflop, or suffer the wrath of the skies, Avec un dragon et un harp, je gagne tous les guys! O’n ni’n meddwl am fwyd, ac rwan dw i’n llawn, Leek by leek, croeso i’r dawn!" KABOOM! The bara brith exploded, showering the crowd with bilingual glitter and edible rhymes. Les spectateurs—half