Arrrgggghhh! Let's face it, when an old, fat guy like Tom Jones starts performing vulgar dance routines and telling everyone that he's their 'sex bomb', he's almost certain to make a few people lose their lunch. The way I see it, Tom should either have died in mysterious circumstances (like, years ago) or should pack in the singing business all together and retire in order to spend more time with his kids, grandkids, great grandkids etc.
I had made Mr Jones aware on many occasions that my patience for him was wearing very thin and that if he proceeded to produce more crap records that it would result in his own undoing.
Mr Jones completely ignored my threats and warnings but soon regretted it when I threw a brick at his head during a rehearsal for 'Top of the pops'; and that explains the scar.
From then onwards, Tom made sure that he always had extra bodyguards with him everywhere he went. But that didn't do him much good because I finally got him at a photo shoot!
Obviously, you can't have body guards huddling around you when you're having your photograph taken so I figured that that was a perfect opportunity to finally put an end to all of the infernal air pollution he'd created!
I sneaked into the studio with my sword, it's an antique and I had had it sharpened especially. I crept up behind Tom Jones and drove the weapon into his head, then scarpered. You can see the result for yourself.

What's that? You don't believe that I killed Tom Jones? Pah! If you don't believe me, then watch the news tonight!