Roy: Moss, how would you feel about a big 'girl's night out'?

Moss: I came here to drink milk and kick ass.

Moss: What kind of operating system does [the robot] use? Police: Err... it's... Vista.

Moss: When I was eleven I broke the patio window and my mother sued me.

Moss: Unless I'm very much mistaken, this seems to be a problem for which you need the male perspective.

Jen: I love culture.

Denholm: That's the sort of place this is, Jen.

Roy: How dare you? I trusted you.

Jen: Mr. Reynholm, I don't need to remind you of the report that denounced Reynholm Industries as an institutionally sexist organization.

Jen: (to Roy) Why are you doing this?

Moss: My mum's on Friendface! My mum!

Moss: I want to go back to being weird. I like being weird. Weird is all I've got.

Jen: Keep the conversation about things that would interest everybody. You know, nothing about memory or RAM.

Derek: (at Denholm's funeral) You do know we're burying a great man today!

Denholm: When I started Reynholm Industries, I had just two things in my possession:

Jen: 'A story of a young man trying to find his sexuality in the uncaring Thatcher years. Warning: Contains scenes of graphic homoeroticism.'

Moss: Dear Sir stroke Madam. Fire, exclamation mark. Fire, exclamation mark. Help me, exclamation mark. 123 Carrendon Road.

Moss: Well that's easy to remember.

Roy: Hello, I.T...

Roy: (singing) We don't need no education.

Moss: Prepare to put mustard on those words, for you will be consuming them with this slice of humble pie that comes from the oven of shame, set at gas mark egg-on-your-face...

Roy: They have no respect for us up there! No respect whatsoever! We're all just drudgeons to them!

Jen: A post has opened up for 'Entertainments Manager'. That sounds great. Better than whatever this job is.

Moss: It's kind of like a 'Dungeons and Dragons' thing.
Jen: Oh, is this something to do with sex?

Roy: I can't believe there's a psychiatrist in the building. All because those two from accounts wanted to go to the seaside.