President

The man with the Shredded Wheat hair and the stomach-churningly racist viewpoints had defied the odds.
He wasn't the best candidate, not by a long way, but he knew how the game was played. He'd used every dirty trick in the book to discredit his rivals and one by one they'd withdrawn from the race.
There had been just one final hurdle to overcome. Armed with misogyny and bigotry he convinced people that she was no good and he was some kind of saviour.
The people were stupid, as he suspected, and he won. It was quite a substantial victory.
And now he stood, ready to address the world for the first time as president.
He soaked up the applause and grinned the fake grin of a politician.
He leaned in towards the microphone, about to speak.
Before a word was uttered there was the sound of a weapon being discharged. It seemed to echo for almost a minute.
He was rushed to hospital where he died from 12 gunshot wounds.