— I am Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your senior drill instructor. From now on, you will speak only when spoken to... and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be "sir." Do you maggots understand that?
— Sir, yes, sir.
— Bullshit. I can't hear you. Sound off like you got a pair.
Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimy little communist-shit, twinkle-toed cocksucker down here... who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh? The fairy-fucking-godmother said it. Out-fucking-standing. I will P. T. You all until you fucking die. I'll P. T. You until your assholes are sucking buttermilk. Was it you, you scroungy little fuck?
— Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?
— Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimy little communist-shit, twinkle-toed cocksucker down here... who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh? The fairy-fucking-godmother said it. Out-fucking-standing. I will P. T. You all until you fucking die. I'll P. T. You until your assholes are sucking buttermilk. Was it you, you scroungy little fuck?
— Sir, no, sir.
— You piece of shit. You look like a fucking worm. I'll bet it was you.
— Sir, no, sir.
— Sir, I said it, sir.
— Well, no shit. What have we got here? A fucking comedian. Private Joker. I admire your honesty. Hell, I like you. You can come over to my house and fuck my sister. You little scumbag. I've got your name. I've got your ass. You will not laugh. You will not cry. You will learn by the numbers. I will teach you. Now get up. Get on your feet. You best unfuck yourself or I will unscrew your head and shit down your neck.
Here's your victory. He'll come back. He'll come back, and he'll be millions!
— The nature of the deal is explained in my proposal. I've booked you a suite at the Midland Hotel. If you need anything in this city, just mention my name.
— So you want to impress me, Mr Shelby?
— Also in the envelope is a cheque for five hundred pounds for your wife. She can use it to buy a black dress, rent a black horse with black feathers, to pull a black carriage with your body in it, should you break the terms of the white flag. Now, please, enjoy the city it's my honour to represent.
— Do what I say and you won't get hurt.
— Mine's bigger than yours.
— It's not the size, it's how you use it.
— What the hell?
— You got hurt because you didn't do what I said. Your bulletproof vest doesn't cover your legs. Next time I'll take out your eye.
— Who the fuck are you?
— Do right, in a few minutes you're on your way to the hospital.
Locksley! I'll cut your heart out with a spoon!
<...>
— Why a spoon, Cousin? Why not an axe?
— Because it's dull, you twit! It'll hurt more!