Well, what do you think of him? He's a pedantic, pontificating, pretentious bastard, a...

[about Mr. Allen] Miranda: Well, what do you think of him? Fletcher Reede: He's a pedantic, pontificating, pretentious bastard, a belligerent old fart, a worthless steaming pile of cow dung, figuratively speaking. [a moment passes and Mr. Allen starts laughing. The other board members follow his lead and start laughing also] Mr. Allen: That's the funniest damn thing I've ever heard. You're a real card, Reede. I love a good roast! Do Simmons! Fletcher Reede: Simmons is old! He should've been out of the game years ago but he can't stay home because he hates his wife! You've met her at the Christmas parties. She's the one that gets plastered and calls him a retard! And you, Tom, you're the biggest brown-nose I've ever seen! You've got your head so far up Mr. Allen's ass, I can't tell where you end and he begins! Mr. Allen: [roaring with laughter] Priceless! [Fletcher continues with every member] Fletcher Reede: You have bad breath caused by gingivitis. You couldn't get a porn star off. Your hairpiece looks like something that was killed crossing the highway. I don't know whether to comb it or scrape it off with a shovel and bury it alive. Loser! Idiot! Wimp! Degenerate! [to Miranda] Fletcher Reede: SLUT! Mr. Allen: I like your style, Reede! That's just what this stuffy company needs - a little irreverence! Fletcher Reede: Good! I'll see you later, dick-head! Mr. Allen: [Adressing one of his board members] Keep your eye on that boy, dick-head!