Sale, a sonic wave of Breton energy that smelled faintly of garlic. MC Daffodil unleashed the Eisteddfod Cypher of Chaos, a lyrical weapon so powerful it caused a black hole made entirely of pickled herring. "His flow is tighter than a dragon's nostrils on a trampoline made of croissants. 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 skies, Avec un dragon et un harp, je gagne tous les guys! O’n ni’n meddwl am fwyd, ac rwan dw i’n