Person who brought the bomb: ‘You’re genuinely offended by the fact that we didn’t bring big enough bombs?’
Person they were trying to blow up: ‘I’m offended by any job poorly done, but that’s not the prime issue.’
“You call that an explosion,” griped the target. Lord Bottomsbury. “You call that an explosion?”
“Er,” said Kieth, would-be assassin. “I thought it’d work?”
“Honestly. This is not the death I paid for.”
“I’m sorry, it’s my first day. I didn’t realise– wait. What?”
Lord Bottomsbury sighed. “It’s like this. I’m sick. I’m dying. And I’d very much like to do so whilst still leaving something to my favourite grandchild.“
“Er,” said Kieth. One half-hearted arm gesture indicated the estate, the gardens, the free-range peafowl, and a small flock of luxury cars.
“Do you have any idea how much it costs to die slowly in this country? It’d all be in hock. I wanted a quick, clean, painless death with a minimum of fuss and bother and you blew up the butler!“
“I’ll write his family into the will. I ask you, what’s wrong with a little poison? I hear Antifreeze is rather sweet. You could dope my sherry with a lethal dose.”
“I didn’t know you liked sherry…”
Lord Bottomsbury glared at Keith. “Did I or did I not send you an information packet containing the numerous ways you could kill me?”
“Er,” said Keith. “Too long. Didn’t read.”
Moral: Never hire the cheapest contractor. No matter what the job.