Excuse me, but you didn't happen to see... anything at all.
Honestly...it's not mine...!
That's Doctor Evil. I didn't spend six years in evil medical school to be called "Mister", thank you very much.
Why must I be surrounded by frickin' idiots?
One more peep out of you and you're grounded Mister and I am not joking. Let's begin
Throw me a frickin' bone here!
The details of my life are quite inconsequential.... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with a low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Wilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I suggest you try it.
Do you like your quasi-futuristic clothes Mr. Powers? I designed them myself.
That makes me angry, and when Dr. Evil gets angry Mr. Bigglesworth gets upset. And when Mr. Bigglesworth gets upset, people DIE!
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my underground lair. I have gathered here before me the world's deadliest assassins.
I like to see girls of that... caliber. [pause] By "caliber," of course, I refer to both the size of their gun barrels and the high quality of their characters... Two meanings... caliber... it's a homonym... Forget it.
Finally, we come to my number two man. His name? Number Two.
Open the frickin' door!
There's nothing quite as pathetic as an aging hipster.
I demand the sum of ... ONE MILLION DOLLARS.
I liquidated the group, you little shit. They were insolent.
Scottie's on fire...
It's frickin freezing in here, Mr. Bigglesworth!
Well my friend Sweet Jay took me to that video arcade in town, right, and they don't speak English there, so Jay got into a fight and he's all, "Hey quit hasslin' me cuz' I don't speak French" or whatever! And then the guy said something in Paris talk, and I'm like, "Just back off!" And they're all, "Get out!" And we're like, "Make me!" It was cool.
They're always after me lucky charms. [Dr. Evil and Frau Farbissina laugh] What? Why does everyone always laugh when I say that? They ARE after me lucky charms! What??
It's a television commercial. With this cartoon leprechaun, and all of these children are trying to chase him, "Hey, leprechaun, leprechaun man, we want to get your lucky charms." Oh! And there are these little tiny pieces of mashmallow just stuck right in the cereal. So when the kids eat them they think, "Oooh this is candy, I'm having fun!"
Send in the femBOTS!
Jesus Christ boy! What did you eat?
_______ Seconds and counting...