bilingual beats. Skrong! "Je suis le roi du cynghanedd, yo," he continued, pulling out a leek-powered synth harp. His rhymes ricocheted across the galaxy, causing spontaneous tap-dancing in the hologram. The crowd of sentient waffles erupted into syrupy cheers. A nearby llama DJ spun vinyl records made of croissants. MC Daffodil Rhymes, le celebre rappeur gallois, commenca son set avec un cri puissant: "Croeso i’r cynghanedd, bois bach! Ça va chauffer ici!" He rode in 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 center of the stage. "Rydym ni’n hoffi rap!" they squeaked, diving into an