'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my underground lair. I have gathered here before me the world's deadliest assassins, and yet each of you has failed to kill Austin Powers. That makes me angry. And when Dr. Evil gets angry, Mr. Bigglesworth gets upset. And when Mr. Bigglesworth gets upset... people DIE!'
'It's Dr. Evil, I didn't spend six years in Evil Medical School to be called "mister," thank you very much.'
'Finally, we come to my number two man. His name? Number Two.'
'There's nothing as pathetic as an aging hipster.'
'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 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 Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.'
'Do you like your quasi-futuristic clothes Mr. Powers? I designed them myself.'
'Why must I be surrounded by frickin' idiots?'
'I'm gonna get you Austin Powers! It's fricken freezing in here Mr. Bigglesworth.'
'I like to see girls of that... caliber. 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.'
'One more peep out of you and you're grounded Mister and I am not joking. Let's begin.'