50 Best Cyril Figgis Quotes

Malory: Stirred up, Cyril. In the loins.
Cyril: You think her loins were stirring?
Malory: If not frothing.

Malory: So, shut up and drive them damn bus!... Sorry, I'm a bit stressed out about Cherlene getting a record deal.
Lana: Right, and your 10% of it.
Malory: Or 50 or whatever.
Lana: WHAT?
Cyril: Fifty, really?
Lana: Who are you, Colonel Mom Parker?
[no reaction from others]
Lana: Nothing?
Cyril: Meh.

Sterling: Fine! Take the suits to my tailor and the shoes to my shoemaker.
Cyril: I... you have a shoemaker?
Sterling: Do you not?

Cyril: I'm not sure that's technically irony.
Sterling: What? This is like O. Henry and Alanis Morissette had a baby and named it this exact situation.

Cyril: But you shot a machine gun at me.
Agent: Around you. Because my feelings were hurt.

Sterling: What are we going to do with literally, not figuratively, a ton of cocaine?
Malory: Well...
Lana: Oh, come on!
Sterling: What, Lana? We must be talking...
Cyril: Wholesale? Fifty, sixty million.
Lana: Wholesale? What, we form a cartel?
Malory: Well, how hard can it be? I mean...
Lana: Don't.
Malory: ...if Mexicans can do it...

Sterling: [Archer shows Cyril a pen] This is what a real field agent uses.
Cyril: Huh. Point's a lot finer than what I prefer.
Sterling: That's because it's a hypodermic needle.
Cyril: What?
Sterling: And the cartridge is full of a deadly supertoxin called poizo... caine.
Cyril: [Archer puts pen in Cyril's pocket] Uh, hey, whoa. Wait a minute.
Sterling: Keep it in here. But be careful! The cap slips off for like no reason.

Cyril: But it's Stir-Friday!
Lana: Hooray.

Cyril: For God's sake, Pam. Have you no sense of decency? That bathroom's like a war crime.
Pam: Don't blame me. It's those new low flow toilets. With the old ones you could flush a dachshund puppy. I mean, not that you would.

Lana: Yeah. Um, so, Trish?
Trish: What?
Lana: Still with the tone. So seriously, none of you know how to fly this thing?
Trish: No! We're scientists! We never even trained on the simulator.
Cyril: The simulator! Guys, I can fly us home. I will fly us home!

Cyril: Screw you, Archer!
Sterling: Hey! Hostile work environment!

Cyril: Hey, so how did you know where I was?
Agent: When we first started going out I may have
[quickly]
Agent: injected a tracking device into your body.
Cyril: In my body? No! Now that is a breach of trust, Lana.
Agent: Baby? Hun, do you really want to open this can of "trust-breachy" worms right after I caught you and my ex-boyfriend with a dead hooker in the trunk?
Cyril: [long pause] I do not.
Agent: You do not.

Sterling: Oh, and I also got stabbed.
[Cyril writing pros and cons on the board]
Sterling: How is that a pro, you dick?
Cyril: Uh, learning experience?
Sterling: Well, joke's on you; I didn't learn anything.
Lana: There's your fridge magnet.

Cyril: Yeah, well, since Lana broke up with me, I've been finding solace in food.
Sterling: Well, keep your chins up, Cyril. All eleven of them.

Sterling: Thanks, ghost of Teddy Roosevelt.
Cyril: Well, Mrs. Archer said to dress for the tropics.
Sterling: Tropics or Busch Gardens?

Sterling: Face it, Lana. Angry's basically your default setting.
Lana: Says who?
Sterling: Besides everybody?
Cyril: Well, not everybody.
Lana: Thank you!
Pam: Just the people who've actually met you.
Krieger: Ehhhh, possibly a few others.
Lana: Hey, assholes! I'm not, like, perpetually angry!
Sterling: Ha, ha, ha, ha. Really?
Lana: Yes, really!
Sterling: Scale of one to ten, Lana. How happy would you say you are, in general?
Lana: Oh, easily a six.
Sterling: A six? Then what's a seven? Yea! I've got tons of cancer!

Dr. Krieger: I still have one bullet left. It's your choice Cyril.
Cyril: Archer, I thought he used all six how many are left?
Sterling: I don't know who do I look like? Count... Bullets?

Malory: None of you had any field experience when you first started. And you've given Cyril some training.
Sterling: Which ended with a dead hooker in my trunk!
Cyril: No it didn't!
Sterling: Well it easily could have!

Torvald: You're breaking my arm!
Lana: Oh sorry. Did that hurt?
Torvald: Yes it hurt. What is wrong with you?
Malory: Nothing but too much enthusiasm for the opportunity to work with the UN.
Torvald: With hands like the Truckasaurus!
Lana: Hey!
Cyril: Gravlax, anyone?

Ray: To reiterate! I am paralyzed!
Cyril: Well join a support group.
Malory: For who? Cripple, gay, hillbilly spies?

Kenny: My boys are bad ass.
Cyril: Well, so am- Lana. And I'm learning. Oh, and don't forget about Archer.
Kenny: The drunk guy?
Cyril: Well, he may have seemed drunk, but he's...
Lana: [off-screen] ... still drinking?
Sterling: [next scene] Relax, Lana, it's just a bloody mary.
Sterling: [toward bartender] And by the way, not a great one, Mr. Vodka and Ketchup.
Lana: Archer, at any time in the next 12 hours, this train could be attacked by radical Nova Scotian separatists.
Sterling: [chuckling] Armed with what? Pamphlets about Canada's responsible gun control laws?
Lana: Ugh, the New Scotland Front *has* guns, and they're not afraid to use them, so...
Sterling: So OK, God! I'll switch to coffee.
Sterling: [to bartender] Hey, Heinz fifty-*six*, can I get an Irish coffee?
Lana: No!
Sterling: Lana, I have to taper off!

Malory: Why not?
Cyril: Because it's just not believable that this guy, who also cannot be named Cassius, would risk his career for a woman twice his age.
Malory: So make her forty.
Cyril: Yeah, and who's gonna play her?
Malory: Me! That's the whole point!
Cyril: You do realize there's a finite supply of Vaseline in the universe.
[Malory hits Cyril on the back of the head with a rolled up magazine]

Lana: No, I'm serious. Name one, just one single favor that Archer ever did for any of you.
Cyril: Uhh...
Cheryl: Oh! Oh my God! Chlamydia. Which put me over my deductible so the rest of the year, all my doctor visits were totally free. Score!
Lana: Wow.
Cheryl: Right?
Pam: How much did you go to the damn doctor?
Cheryl: I dunno, like a lot? I kept getting chlamydia.
[She reaches for one of Ray's chips and he slaps her hand]
Cheryl: Ow!
Ray: Get off! Chlamydiot!
Cheryl: Oh, I get it. 'Cause of the chlamydia. Oh, and I'm an idiot.

Cyril: [smashes phone] Hated that phone. Always dropping calls, you know?
Sterling: Yeah, you're probably holding it wrong.
Cyril: Oh yeah, just like Cyril Figgis always does everything wrong, is that what you mean?
Sterling: ...Basically.

Cheryl: Breast cancer? Oh, you poor thing!
[hugs Malory]
Malory: Pam! What is wrong with you?
Pam: I can't help it. It's like a disease.
[keeps texting]
Malory: Pam!
Pam: Do you not know what disease means? Oh sorry, I forgot you might have...
Cyril: Breast cancer?
Malory: Oh, for the love. And would you get off? Breath!
Cyril: Malory, if there's anything we can do you just say the word.
Doctor: My entire laboratory is at your disposal.
Malory: Thanks. I'll let you know if I need a hybrid pig-boy.
Doctor: A what? That... what are you...? I don't have one of those!
[Flashback to Krieger's laboratory with a lot of squealing and a gun shot]
Doctor: ... Any more.

Pam: Whatcha doin', Krieger?
Dr. Krieger: Well, I feel bad for Archer, so I'm making him some Portuguese flashcards.
Cyril: Portuguese? But isn't... I thought Krieger was a German name.
Dr. Krieger: Über-German. It means "warrior".
Cheryl: How come you know Portuguese?
Dr. Krieger: [evasively] Because I grew up in Braz - istol... County... Rhode Island. Lotta... Portuguese in Rhode Island.
Cyril: [skeptically] Where you're from.
Dr. Krieger: Born and raised!
Cyril: Uh-huh. What's the state capital?
Dr. Krieger: Of...
Cyril: Rhode Island.
[Krieger thinks for a moment]
Dr. Krieger: Dallas?
Cyril: A-ha!
Pam: A-ha what?
Cheryl: It's Austin! Duh!
Cyril: It's Providence! But I bet he knows the capital of Brazil, don't you?
Dr. Krieger: I don't have to answer that! Who do you...
Cyril: [interrupting] Warum hast du Umzug nach Brasilien?
["Why did you move to Brazil?"]
Dr. Krieger: Weiter den Kampf der mein Führer!
["To continue my Führer's fight!"]
Dr. Krieger: [Realizing what he just said] Schieße!
[He runs away]

Cyril: Three cheers for little Johnny Bastard!

Cyril: How do you not know the different kinds of porn?
Sterling: Because I have sex with actual women, Cyril. My girlfriend's not equal parts the internet, a tube of Kentucky jelly, self-loathing, and a sock.

Sterling: And everybody else, shut up, and watch "Terms of Enrampagement".
Cyril: Why don't you call it "Magnum, P.U."?
Sterling: It's a working title! Idiots!
Malory: Liked him better when he had cancer.
Sterling: First of all, WHAT THE SHIT, MOTHER?

Sterling: Look how tiny this room is.
Malory: Oh, my God, it's like a broom closet.
Sterling: And yet, a surprising amount of storage.
Malory: Oh, shut up. And Cyril, very eager to know why you're still here.
Agent: He was just...
Cyril: ...helping Lana get settled.
Sterling: Trust me, Cyril, she already settled.

Cyril: Why would Ms. Archer give us until Friday?
Pam: I did that, because somebody in this building is going to have sex with me.
Sterling: Yeah? You think between now and Friday you can score some roofies?

Lana: OK, we got the French chick and Carol and... anybody else, Rambone?
Cyril: Nooo.
Scatterbrain: [Waving as she walks past the open office door; in sing-song voice] Hiiii, Cyril.
[Her light laughter turns into coughing and hacking]
Lana: Scatterbrain Jane? Really?
Cyril: Well, say she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer.
Lana: [laughing] Oooh, right, I forgot your dick's full of radiation and mastectomy coupons.
Cyril: Boy, you are just so determined not to be cool about this.
Lana: Yep. Anybody else?
Cyril: Um.
[Memory flashback to being in Malory's office]
Cyril: Ms. Archer, you're trying to seduce me.
[Malory is heard to laugh]
Cyril: Aren't you?
[Flashback ends]
Cyril: NOPE! No one.
Lana: Okay; get out.
Cyril: Of my own office?
Lana: Yep.
Cyril: Why?
Lana: Oh, you don't wanna be here... when I bang every last dude in the building.
Cyril: WHAT?
Lana: Right here on your blotter.

ISIS: Do something!
Sterling: I'm doing all kinds of stuff, Cyril! I'm shooting the gun, I'm driving the car...
ISIS: I could drive better than that!
Sterling: Well, knock yourself out, I'm ejecting.

Lana: We're stuck inside a space nautilus somewhere between his colon and his cloaca.
Pam: What's a cloaca?
Cyril: It's an organ that's used for excretion and also intercourse.
Pam: [chuckles] Smart.

Cyril: Jesus H. Chrysler!

Sterling: [fires grenade launcher] Whoo!
Lana: Archer?
Sterling: Hold on.
[grenade goes off]
Sterling: Yes, Archer, duh. And if you're done doing each other's hair, let's...
Commander: ...retake the ship!
[runs off]
Sterling: Or just run around interrupting people.

Cyril: So, as you can see, we are already down to 125 kilos of cocaine, which was worth about six million dollars.
Sterling: Wait, how much is that in pounds?
Cyril: Forget pounds, we're doing kilos!
Sterling: No, I meant pounds...
Malory: Sterling!
Sterling: Exactly! As in, Doctor Who money.

Lana: That crazy son of a... Come on!
Cyril: Why is your instinctive response to run toward explosions?
Lana: Uh, because I'm not a giant pussy.
Cyril: Although, somehow, incredibly single.
Lana: What? I go on... tons of dates!
Cyril: With who?
Lana: Men. Men models. Men who model.

Cyril: OK, so human intelligence entails what exactly?
Sterling: Well, there's false flags, dead drops, drop outs, cut outs, active doubles, passive doubles, dangled moles; the often underappreciated honeypot - one of my favorites.
Cyril: Wow, sounds like a lot to cover.
Sterling: Yeah, so we may have to gloss over... almost all of it.

Cyril: Well, he certainly doesn't have cancer in his fists.

Sterling: God, Cyril, would you go?
Cyril: I should be carrying her.
Sterling: Cyril, I paid her. I get to carry her corpse.

Cyril: Archer, what am I going to tell her?
Sterling: Well, if you learned anything today, it won't be the truth.

Cyril: You slept with her too!
Sterling: When I was bored!

Malory: [sobbing] Oh, I just wanted it to be all white!
Cyril: Jeezy Petes, this drawer squeaks exactly like the old one did!
Lana: And is this... is this Brett's blood?
Cheryl: Ugh, no, just the same type. We had to fudge it a little on the stains. Some of which actually were fudge!
Pam: And some of which merely resembled it.
[Malory sobs anew]
Ray: But *why* would you *do* this?
[Cheryl snickers and holds her arms down and forward toward Malory, as if saying, "Obviously, for this!"]

Cyril: Why are you so scared of crocodiles?
Sterling: Gee, I don't know, Cyril. Maybe deep down, I'm afraid of any Apex Predator that lived through the KT Extinction.
Cyril: The...?
Sterling: Physically unchanged for a hundred million years because it's the perfect killing machine: a half ton of cold-blooded fury with the bite force of twenty-thousand newtons and a stomach acid so strong it can dissolve bones and hooves. And now we're surrounded, those snake eyes are watching from the shadows waiting for the night...

[last lines]
Agent: OK, then, what did you want to talk about?
Cyril: Um, well, uh, a lot of stuff really.
[There is a loud explosion]
Cyril: Starting with the fact that we just bombed Ireland.
Agent: Um, pretty sure that's Wales.

Cyril: Do you know how hard I worked on this budget? Nights, weekends, cancelled my vacation, and, and now it's all wasted.
Pam: Wasted. Exactly. Let's go be that. C'mon, happy hour at Pita Margarita's, chikka chikka chow.
Cyril: Ugh, is that what it sounds like?
Pam: Only if it sounds like a shitload of tequila and some A-rab hoagies.

Cyril: How do you keep track of all these lies?
Sterling: Practice, Cyril. Lying is like 95% of what I do.
Cyril: In your job.
Sterling: Sure.

Pam: [stopping at the janitor's closet] I'll catch up. I gotta run in here real quick and grab some urinal cakes.
Cyril: Why the hell do you need urinal cakes.
Pam: For my shower at home.
Lana: Gross.
Ray: Oh, gross.
Cyril: Oh, Lord.
[Pam: 934-TXS / ID: shiro kabocha STATUS: UNLOCKED". The back wall retracts upward, the other side of which is made to look like a Japanese paper wall]
Pam: Mrs. Archer looked like a mule kicked her in the face.
[Behind the wall is a Japanese-style hot spring spa, plete with bonsai trees, lanterns, and Krieger enjoying it holding two tokkuri of saké]
Pam: How's the water?
Doctor: Sweet baby James, it is perfect, um... uh...
Pam: Pam.
Doctor: Yes, of course, I know you're...
[Pam drops her skirt, then discards her top, completely nude save for her earrings]
Pam: So I gained the weight back! Sue me!
Doctor: No, I was...
Pam: Look, my therapist says everybody's got a hole that needs to be filled. Some people fill it with drugs, some fill it with work, some fill it with between-meal snacks and liquor and their therapist's cock.
Doctor: Um, I was actually looking at your pubic hair.
Pam: Oh, yeah. It's a lightning bolt, but I guess the letters could use a touch-up. It's supposed to say "TCB". "Takin' Care of Beave-ness".
Doctor: [she gets in the water, he hands her a tokkuri] Super. Kampai.
Sterling: Kampai.

Cyril: That's what people want to see, not "Granny Gets Jungle Fever".