The following is a transcript of the UN trial of Tony Patterson, a terrible barber charged with crimes against hair-manity. The trial took place at The Hague. The transcript has been edited to highlight portions of Patterson’s cross-examination.

PROSECUTOR: On the morning of April 3rd, [name redacted] walked into King Cutz looking for a high-top fade. Do you recall what you said to him?

TONY: “I got you, bro.”

PROSECUTOR: That sounds like an assurance of quality. And what was the duration of that haircut?

TONY: I knocked it out in eight minutes.

(Murmurs ripple through crowd.)

PROSECUTOR: Hmm, seems pretty fast for the “dope cut” that was promised. Usually, it takes forty minutes to make that shit look fresh. Could it be that you were trying to wrap things up before the Eagles game came on?

TONY: It was the playoffs!

PROSECUTOR: And you were at work. Were you aware that this client was attending a party that night?

TONY: Yes.

PROSECUTOR: Let the record show that at this event, your client was roundly mocked as a “Gumby-headed bitch.” His hair was compared to a sponge a dog had chewed. One of the guests laughed so hard that she leaned her hand against a wall so as not to collapse.

TONY: That’s not on me! When I was trimming the sides, he flinched!

PROSECUTOR: Because you nicked his ear!

(Prosecutor holds up a photo of a bleeding earlobe. The crowd gasps.)

PROSECUTOR: Let’s turn to the following Tuesday, where, according to witnesses, you showed up reeking of booze.

TONY: I wasn’t drunk.

PROSECUTOR: But you were hungover. From the club.

TONY: The strip club, yes.

PROSECUTOR: And during your first cut of the day, you took a phone call from your girl. What was the nature of the call?

TONY: She was mad because she found rubbers in my Jeep.

PROSECUTOR: That must have gotten pretty heated. Defending yourself from cheating accusations would have prompted some wild hand gesticulations. (Turns to judge.) Hands that were holding clippers to an innocent man’s fro.

TONY: So what? I take calls all the time while I’m cutting.

JUDGE: Yeah, that’s bad.

PROSECUTOR: But it gets worse. At one point, you were eating mozzarella sticks with your free hand. Forensic evidence points toward the use of dipping sauce. We’ve also clocked nine separate instances of your paunch pressing against the back of a client’s neck. They felt the heat from your belly and have not slept since. It changed them.

TONY: My tummy runs hot.

PROSECUTOR: So you admit it! (Turns to judge) The ugly truth is that Mr. Patterson carried out a systematic series of sloppy trims against his clients, some of whom had an interview that day. Their prospects were killed by this man, and the bobs he let them leave with.

TONY: Well, if I’m so bad, why do I keep getting shifts?

PROSECUTOR: Why indeed. This is the question that haunts me. The fact is, no one could commit the kinds of atrocities Tony perpetrated without their fellow barbers looking the other way. Andre saw what he was doing to those braids, and said nothing. Steve was too busy ranting about how fine Janelle Monae is. Tony’s colleagues are aiding and abetting lopsided lineups and terrible tapers. His ability to work in a respected barber shop allowed him to botch buzz cuts with impunity. His butchery has forced hundreds of victims to throw on a hat, even though they’re not hat guys! He cut kids!

TONY: At a discount.

PROSECUTOR: We must put an end to Tony’s reign of incompetence. It’s not enough to move him to the far chair back by the john. He must be stopped before he clips again. If we fail to act now, who knows who might be next? It could be your neighbor. Or your son. Or you.

TONY: Hey, is it cool if I pass out some business cards?