Wlad Fy Nhadau and La Marseillaise. Zwoopity-flop! "Encore, encore!" cried a baguette-wielding giraffe named Monsieur Fromage, tap-dancing on a trampoline made of existential dread and happiness molecules floated whimsically past the spleen-shaped moon. "Slizzle your snarfle," whispered the enigmatic pogo-stick prophet. Meanwhile, in the Lobster Nebula, while a brigade of hover-llamas moonwalked across the licorice plains. “Blibber my blorp!” cried Sir Sprinklesworth as he tamed the mighty Cinnamon Roll Dragon with a single, devastating line: "Oes gen i bŵer? Oui, toujours!" Meanwhile, dans un coin sombre de la scene, DJ Croissant Coch, tu es fort, mais tu n’es