Panic struck Windrush village this week as a wave of Welsh invaders descended upon the tranquil Oxfordshire hamlet, bringing with them an unexpected tidal wave of dragons, leeks, and inordinate amounts of sheep. The invasion, which browsers of local social media channels are already branding as the "Leekocalypse," appeared to have emerged seemingly out of nowhere - a sudden disturbance in the force of English normality, as mysterious as the disappearance of the local Vicar's prized petunias last month. That, as we all know, was later attributed to the roguish activities of Miss Miggins' notoriously gardening-averse cat. Eyewitnesses reported sightings of dragons soaring over the green dales of this quintessential English countryside. While the dragons turned out to be elaborate kites being flown by enthusiastic Welsh visitors eager to showcase their heritage, they caused a degree of consternation among the more jumpy residents. Mrs. Mary Higginbotham, who was out walking her poodle, Bruce, exclaimed, “I saw it with my own eyes - a massive dragon swooping over Crumbleton Manor!” It took several cups of tea and a generous serving of the local pub's finest fruitcake to calm her nerves. Other Welsh trademarks have also infiltrated the village. The usually peaceful precincts of the town square were metamorphosed into a bustling market place with stalls peddling Welsh rarebit and opened tins of laverbread, much to the puzzlement of locals. Surprisingly - or perhaps, unsuprisingly - there has been significant controversy over the arrival of leeks in the village. Those culinary ne’er-do-wells have sparked something akin to class warfare in Windrush's gourmet circles. The Windrush Vegetable Society (or the WVS in its gangsta form) has been shaken to its marrow, feeling its place usurped by these alien Welsh onions, a veritable cat among the pigeons in their horticultural harmony. Local grocer, Mr. Tomlinson, described the situation as "utter pandemonium." The local populace is divided in their opinions on leeks. While some see them as a Welsh apocalypse, others have embraced them, leading to shockingly pretentious new dishes like 'Leek and Stilton Crumble'. The arrival of an army of sheep from across the border, however, has been met with universal applause as the prospects of widespread knitting have risen dramatically. It remains to be seen how this Welsh invasion will play out. Will Windrush ever be the same again? Will leeks be integrated into afternoon baskets of Mrs. Crumbleton’s bread rolls? Will Bruce recover from the flying dragons? Only time will tell.+ For now, however, the Welsh invasion can be summed up by the words of the local postmaster who, over his morning pint of stout, stated, "There's never a dull day in Windrush.”