Revenge

"We will have revenge!" he shouted from the podium.
A huge cheer erupted in the room.
The man left the stage as the crowd chanted his name. He waved and smiled at them.
He was ushered along some corridors and into a private room where a buffet of sandwiches sat on a large table.
"No crusts, just the way I like it," he said, grabbing a handful and slapping them down on to a plate.
"That went well," said the little man who was his advisor.
"It's pretty easy to fool these people. They're so bloody stupid they'll believe anything you tell them."
The little man's mouth was open in a huge O.
"Sir..."
"As if we're really going to get revenge. It makes no financial sense. Only an idiot would do it."
"Sir..."
"But as long as these morons get told what they want to hear, I'll get elected again and we can keep on riding this gravy train."
The little man's face was as white as a glass of milk and was contorted into a painful shape.
"Sir!"
"What is it, man?"
He pointed at the man's lapel.
"Your microphone is still on."