Vacuum strikes again

The work vacuum cleaner is a bastard - shall we do a quick revision for those who haven't followed the progressive decent of my personal relationship with this horrible machine?
Okay!
It's got an incredibly abusive nature, and despite all attempts, it seems unable to listen to reasoning. Nor will it accept bribes. All efforts to enlighten its world of viscous savagery have failed.
As I am aware, it has nothing that we could use to blackmail it into being ... tolerable.
It has caused me a plethora of physical and emotional damage.

Just recently, it was torn to pieces but another staff member. I have already described this incident in a previous post - but if you wish to read it, I warn you that its pretty gory and upsetting to see.

Anyway, considering that it was me who put the unreasonable sadist back together, it still wont give me a break. It has now discovered a new way to hurt me.
It pulls out my hair.

Im aware that the picture is terrible, you can only JUST see the hairs - but you'll have to excuse that. It was ... 'difficult' to take a picture of my hair stuck there while my manager was standing next to me. She wouldn't understand. SHE doesn't have to do the vacuuming.

Vacuum fatality

I once said I would strangle the vacuum cleaner at work. Apparently I wasn't the only one bearing ill feelings towards that little bastard. Although I had (frequently) dreamed about it's demise, tearing it limb from limb was too violent for my tastes. Its sabotage remains a mystery, and I can safely say there is more that one person here who qualifies for a valid suspect.

It had been patched up terribly. When I went to use it, I was pulling it along thinking how remarkably light it was - maybe it was on a new diet? - when I turned to see I was just carrying its disembodied tube.
The poor thing was a mess.
A mess that it RIGHTFULLY DESERVED. But a mess none the less.

After I used my highly qualified medical skills, it was looking much better (as you can see), and it may yet live to see another day. That is, if someone doesn't torch it or drown it while Im on my weekend.
I can't honestly say I would miss it, if I came back to find it a puddle of melted plastic.