by 
Jeffrey Epstein’s assassin is strapping on his killin’ boots again.
In the wake of the arrest of Epstein’s ex-girlfriend, Ghislaine Maxwell, assassin Simon Williams woke up to 73 missed calls and 38 voicemails from various celebrity nonces who are keen to have the woman unalived.
“*sigh* fine,” remarked Williams, digging out his murder suitcase from the wardrobe.
“I was hoping for some time off, but $38million is $38million.
“Let’s see…shiv…noose…magic surveillance tape eraser…bribe money…shiny object to distract prison guards…sandwiches…
“Chloroform? Yeah, go on then. Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”
“You don’t know if this Gisele bird is allergic to nuts or anything do you? That’s always a massive help. You wouldn’t believe how many assassinations are disguised as catering mishaps.
“…actually you would, it’s only about three, but it’s still handy.
“Her name is what? Ghislaine? Oh cool, thank you. Knowing the target’s actual name is a big help.
“I’m kind of rubbish at this, no wonder nobody believes Epstein killed himself!
“In an ideal world I’m sure these incredibly powerful men would hire a more competent assassin, but most of my colleagues tend to draw the line at helping out kiddie fiddlers. Considering they make a living out of murdering people, their stance on that is surprisingly firm.”
“Not me though, I’m a complete bastard and I’ll work for anyone, including his royal highness.
“OH!…ah…well I mean there are LOADS of royal highnesses out there, so you couldn’t possibly know who I mean…could you breathe deeply into this handkerchief for me?”
