His lordness, the dark sovereign of ironic castigation

Squire: Your lordness, it's about time for your six o'clock meeting. And by that I mean drug dealings. And by that I mean bubble bath.

Deathman: I'm not ready!

Squire: But why sir? You have more than enough dastardly evil cloaks with the word evil written evilly upon them in yellow.

Deathman: Don't correct me, I'm under a lot of bed sheets right now. I mean at least 6 or 7 bed sheets. And they're the wool kind of bed sheets so they're extra itchy and uncomfortable.

Squire: Well I can't afford to waste time. What with such an economic crisis and all the magical tablecloths enslaving the dollar bill and all.

Deathman: Don't forget about the evil death monkey, the death monkey that's 89 times more evil than the purple death monkey, that one. I was the one who made that monkey....Squire? WHERE DID YOU GO?! It's so loud with just my voice in here. I'm just so lonely. No one appreciates me but myself and my invisible friend Jeremy.

Jeremy: I appreciate you, milord.

Deathman: You just shut up and go back to where you belong, Jeremy. All the way back up there.

Jeremy: But I can't. It's so cold back up there and there's penguins everywhere.

Deathman: Well I could care less about you. So I will...fatso prick.