Hoover of Doom

The latest household appliance I've done battle with is the hoover of doom.  And this isn't my hoover because I have a rather nifty Dyson who I get on with very well.  No, this is the evil hoover of doom that lives at work.  And I hate it.  We all hate it.  Never before I have I met such an awkward piece of equipment.  I wouldn't even know where to start when describing how bad this hoover is.  Firstly it's impossible to move.  It's like an old Henry Hoover but it's square and just refuses to move in a straight line.  It weaves around like a drunken piece of plastic, smashes into things and flatly refuses to go around corners.  It's like a reject from Robot Wars that does nothing but go round in squiffy little circles.  When you finally manage to get the beast on the move it then decides to fall to pieces.  It's connected in two parts with the hose thing connecting to the square plastic box and then the sucky bit attaching to the hose thing.  But the sucky thing won't stay put.  You'll be happily (or rather not so happily) hoovering away and then splat, the whole thing falls apart and drops on the floor.  You can hear people hoovering, then you hear a clunk, then you hear cursing followed by a dark muttering.  We've tried sellotaping the thing in place but that doesn't work.  I've now opted for jamming it into place with brute force and I don't have much brute force so it only works for a little while.  So you might think this hoover of doom is actually just a gormless piece of rubbish but it's actually a conniving machine that's bent on destroying office morale.  That's what it is.  Because whilst it's wobbling behind you, falling to pieces in your hands it's also zapping you with static electricity.  It zaps us all so hard that you can actually hear the crackle of energy in the air.  The whole thing turns into a circus.  Pull the hoover along, it won't go in a straight line, knock over stack of paper, crash into a wall, trip over a colleague and then splat it's broken in half again, curse and grumble and mutter and reattach the damned thing and then zap! you're hit by the static electricity which then causes louder cursing followed by more muttering and grumbling.  It's no wonder we all look so disheveled after doing the hoovering.  I want the old hoover back that we used to strap to our backs.  With a headset on to answer the phone and a hoover strapped to my back I used to think of myself as some sort of administrative ghost buster.  I looked so cool.  I'm not sure where that old hoover actually went to.  I bet the new hoover of doom somehow orchestrated it's demise.  How devious.  I can see I'm going to have to watch my back with this one.