“Why has my American friend lost?” asked the white bearded leader, looking up from the morning paper and staring at his bald deputy, “What do you think went wrong?”

“If you really want to know, sir, your friend thought only about himself.”

“But who else is there to think about?”

The deputy had served his leader long enough to know that some questions were asked in the hope that nobody would answer. He poured the tea, moved the sugar bowl within reach and took his chances.

“The people, sir.”

“I think about the people all the time. Just yesterday I asked how many of them had downloaded my latest picture on our new government app.”

“You did, sir.”

“And what did you tell me?”

“That many of them had downloaded it to find out when they’d get their pensions.”

“There you are. The people know where to find me.”

“They do, sir. Your photograph comes up before the pension page.”

Our leader took a sip of tea. “What do you suppose my friend should have done differently?”

“He might have spent a little more time with people who could afford to disagree with him, sir.”

“Surely he had a cabinet?”

“I meant people who could afford to disagree with him and still have a job in the morning.”

The leader put down his cup. His deputy, who also wanted a job in the morning, found something of absorbing interest in the pattern on the saucer. Outside, a man on a ladder was putting up a fresh photograph of the leader on a government hoarding. The old one had faded. The road beneath it had been dug up for six months, but at least somebody had noticed the photograph.

“Tell me something,” said the leader. “If I were to go out there now, what do you think that man on the ladder would ask me?”

“Probably when he can take the ladder away, sir. It’s the only way across the trench.”

“He sees my face every day,” said the leader. “He knows who’s looking after him.”

“He certainly knows whose face it is, sir.”

Our leader walked to the window. From where he stood he could see his photograph on the hoarding, his photograph on a bus and, reflected in the glass, the original. It was a reassuring view. He turned to his deputy.

“Can you imagine Rahul’s face on all those apps, in all the papers, and everywhere else where my face is today?”

“No, sir,” said his deputy. “I can’t.”

“There!” said the leader, settling back into his chair. “You see what I mean.”

“Yes, sir,” said his deputy, picking up the newspaper. “But the people can, sir..!”

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