out a leek-powered synth harp. His rhymes ricocheted across the licorice plains. “Blibber my blorp!” cried Sir Sprinklesworth as he summoned a holographic harp that doubled as a bass cannon. The crowd roared. "Vive le fromage! Long live the leek! Iechyd da, mes amis!" Then, as if summoned by divine nonsense itself, a cosmic choir of dragons, crêpes, and robotic daffodils—erupted into applause. Overhead, a fleet of hover-sheep baa’d harmoniously to the rhythm of his bilingual beats. Skrong! "Je suis le roi du cynghanedd, yo,"