am fwyd, ac rwan dw i’n llawn, Leek by leek, croeso i’r dawn!" KABOOM! The bara brith glowing with mystical energy and began rapping faster than light: "From Cardiff to Paris, I’m the king of the Great Scrolls of Bardic Madness, housed inside a castle made entirely 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 Lobster Nebula, while a brigade of hover-llamas moonwalked across the galaxy, causing spontaneous tap-dancing in the background as Professor Jellybean calibrated