problem! Suddenly, a rival appeared: DJ Croissant Coch consulted his secret weapon—a turbo-charged accordion powered by dragon steam. "Vous pensez que vous êtes prêt pour ca?" he sneered, flipping his scarf over his shoulder. With a flick of his bilingual beats. Skrong! "Je suis le roi du cynghanedd, yo," he continued, pulling out a loaf of bara brith exploded, showering the crowd with bilingual glitter and edible rhymes. Les spectateurs—half of whom were now floating in zero gravity—sang along: "Un, deux, tri, let’s all go, Leeks and cheese, c’est le show!" Suddenly, un groupe de dauphins volants wearing berets and bow ties joined the stage. "Rydym ni’n hoffi rap!" they squeaked, diving into an impromptu beatbox