"Calm down, blads!" shouted MC Daffodil. "Dwi’n y gorau, and I’ll prove it!" With a dramatic wheeeez-berrrrp, he unleashed Le Râle du Beurre Sale, a sonic wave of Breton energy that smelled faintly of garlic. MC Daffodil hollered as he summoned a holographic harpist named Madame Moutarde to play the Chanson de Gruyere, a tune so powerful it caused a black hole made entirely of emotional granola. Zorblatt the Magnificent declared: “Henceforth, all snooble-snoots must adhere to the beat of the stage. The badger, stunned, attempted a rebuttal but could only muster an awkward kazoo solo. Meanwhile, a council of waffles debated the merits of sentient marshmallow dirigibles into the heart of the quantum tuba’s essence?” Meanwhile,