The great and glorious leader of the free world, His Oranger-than-Thou Donald Trump, has issued a clarion call to cancel the US Freedom 250 festival after a mass exodus of artists. The event, meant to celebrate America's 250th birthday with all the subtlety of a bald eagle vomiting Stars and Stripes, has seen its line-up decimated faster than a bottle of cheap bourbon at a trailer park wake.
Sources confirm that the festival, scheduled to take place on the National Mall with a backdrop of portable toilets and patriotic paunch, has lost headliners including the Foo Fighters, the Eagles, and some bloke who once played the kazoo at a county fair. Taylor Swift's PR team reportedly sent a polite refusal that translated from diplomatic speak to: 'Not on your Nelly, mate.'
Trump, in a fit of pique that could power a small nuclear reactor, took to his social media gilded cage to demand the whole sorry affair be mothballed. 'Cancel it. It's a disaster, a total disaster, maybe the biggest disaster since I left office,' he posted, presumably while clutching a Diet Coke and a grievance the size of Texas.
But fear not, patriots. For those still desperate to celebrate the nation's 250th with the enthusiasm of a man being forced to listen to Nickelback on repeat, there are alternatives. The 'Make America Grate Again' festival, hosted by a cheese enthusiast in Ohio, promises a day of cheddar sculpture and mild xenophobia. Or perhaps the 'All-American Finger-Lickin' Bucket of Lard' celebration in Mississippi, where the main event is a competitive eating contest between reality TV stars and actual pigs.
In related news, the Freedom 250 committee has announced a replacement line-up featuring the finest in MAGA-core: Kid Rock, Ted Nugent, and a hologram of Elvis that looks suspiciously like a bloke from Alabama in a jumpsuit. The event will now be held in a car park in Tulsa, with an admission fee of one MAGA hat and a prayer to the invisible hand of the market.
As the great poet once said, 'You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.' But you can certainly make a right old mess of a birthday party when you don't pay your artists. And that, dear readers, is the American way.
