In the frigid depths of Hades, an aging politician is secretly discussing the social aspect of his future ruling tactics with an international PR firm representative.

Leader: [Sighs] Gone are the days when I could rule my beloved country with a-not-so-metaphorical iron fist… when nobody had the audacity to question MY decisions… when the words “justice” and “democracy” were virtually unheard of… when I could charge conspirators and people who simply give me the evil eye with terrorism… and most of all, when my beloved subjects used to address me as “Mein führer” or whatever the hell its equivalent in Divehi is…

PR Guy: Sir, need I remind you that this is absolutely not the time for you to get nostalgic about the countless years you terrori… I mean you ruled the country as a shamelessly egomaniacal tyrant and inflicted draconian punishments on your opposition… surveys are indicating that your people no longer think very highly of you… they don’t even venerate you to the point of worship in the evening news like they used to.

Leader: Yeah, they treated me like a god, didn’t they? My granddaddy used to tell me that I was the reincarnation of the Egyptian god “Anubis” which destined me to rule… see the resemblance? My people recognized that quality in me.

PR Guy: Perhaps this is why your opposition calls you delusional, sir? Anyway, we need something to boost your rating at the polls… something spectacular that’ll effectively reignite the passion your country’s octogenarians and other people suffering from advanced senility has lost in you.

Leader: Hmm… what do you suggest? C’mon, quit sitting on your ass… I am paying you through the roof for this consultation here.

PR Guy: [Ahem] If I may point out… you aren’t. You are directing state funds to my firm, like you do with your groceries, bakeries, plumbings and exotic dancers.

Leader: Details, details, give me something already, you featherbrained PR freak.

PR Guy: Alright. Why don’t you spark controversy by having a group of children prostrate to you at the end of a strategically choreographed dance number? That oughta tell your people that you still maintain your divine ruling skills and launch you right back on the limelight.

Leader: No, no, I already tried that. A few bearded yahoos here and there protested it but it didn’t have the desired effect. I think I would be better off eating babies on national TV!

PR Guy: [getting uneasy] I’d rather you not, sir. How about something a little less demonic then…. The opposition seems to be getting on the news a lot… maybe you can divert the attention of your people by accusing an opposition leader of theft or some other petty crime?

Leader: Already tried that… twice. You should’ve seen the look on his face when I had him tried at the civil courts for theft… of my soiled underwear, which I had discarded mind you. And this other time, my personal security, commonly called the Police, secretly stashed drugs on his person during an interrogation session. The guy was raging so much while we dragged him to the gallows, he ought have been better off stoned on the stuff we hid on him. [Laughs out loud]

PR Guy: Jesus! Who represented you earlier… Satan!?! OK… this is my last idea. You are planning on campaigning throughout the country right? Why don’t you –

Leader: - hire some blithering idiot to act out my assassination, with a box cutter or kitchen knife no less. [Laughs maniacally] Those fools won’t know that such a puny weapon cannot hurt me; my hide is too tough for that… like a wrinkled up carrot.

PR Guy: Yes, sir. People will then magically forget that you are the personification of evil itself and start treating you like the attention-whore that you are… years of repressed rage will be forgotten and replaced by pity and 24-hour news coverage. Its a brilliant publicity stunt, sir. Dare shall I say, its even better than Britney Spears’ monumentally ‘ingenious’ idea of not wearing underwear in public. Can I please get back to my family now?

*This is a work of fiction, with obviously fictional characters (how can they be real?), though inspired by somewhat real events that may or may not have taken place, in a galaxy far far away where tyrants are revered like saints. Any resemblance to a certain someone living or (preferably) dead is purely coincidental and/or intentional. Reader discretion is advised.