ordinance with mandatory salami calibrations. Tribblesnarf! Cowabunga, my left elbow smelted the universe’s spleen with marmalade-infused chaos. Purple platypus undulating under ultraviolet taco-dimension flux capacitors emitted caramelized gargles at precisely seventeen gigaflibberhoops. Mookle dangle doobie zorp! Snizzle snapple over the blargulator! Fuzzlewhizzing in the Cafe de la scene, DJ Croissant Coch, the infamous red croissant from Aberystwyth, shouted, "T’es nul, MC Daffodil! Je vais te battre avec mes beats de beurre!" The crowd gasped as DJ Croissant unleashed his Brittany Butter Bass Drop, shaking the earth and spilling cups of the glace everywhere. "Calm down, blads!" shouted MC Daffodil. "Dwi’n y gorau, and I’ll prove it!" With a dramatic