Blooming hairdresser

It's my school's bloody law to have every boy student to have the strictly prescribed haircut every first school day of every month, though rarely on another day, actually. Admittedly, I have always hated this. In fact, I even got into trouble for complaining much about it, but I'd rather not to review those vague memories.

Needless to say, I went to the hairdresser's in the afternoon, only to be disappointed by what he had done to my hair: it could have been better if he listened succinctly to my various directions. When he was done murdering my hair, I went home.

In conclusion, I could cheerfully strangle the hairdresser any day.