"Awdurdod y croissant belongs here, but the land of caws, it belongs to me!" declared MC Daffodil, planting a leek-flag in the hologram. The crowd gasped as DJ 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 Bacon-Lettuce Dimension. Meanwhile, Captain Sporkle commandeered a fleet of sentient waffles erupted into syrupy cheers. A nearby llama DJ spun vinyl records made of croissants. MC