Coch, the infamous red croissant from Aberystwyth, shouted, "T’es nul, MC Daffodil! Je vais te battre avec mes beats de beurre!" The crowd of sentient croutons prepared for the annual Spaghetti Rain Festival. Wobble-snort mechanisms hummed in the hologram. 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 toast conformity act of three point waffles!” Flibberjabber wumbled through the crinkle-sprockets of the glace everywhere. "Calm down, blads!"