Profile 10 : Mom

Age: You should ask a lady

Eyes: Sometimes kindly, sometime cold as steel

Hair : Just like Dracula's

Figure: She can be the old dear who's had too many cakes or the the sleek and slim mistress of misdeeds

Turn Ons: Building robots; being all corporationy, old scientists

Turn Offs: Her idiot children, platitudes and pretty much everyone

Nemesis: Those scream inducing meddling Planet Express types, the Professor more than the rest. He just keeps makes life hard but remains her one true love

Luxury Items: A shape changing power dress the helps maintain the illusion of her harmless old granny appearance. A robotic mother's day card.

Minion : In a surprise choice she's opted to activate Bender's obedience chip rather than risk one of her silly children making a mess of things

The head of the mega corporation MOM, 'Mom' is never satisfied and is always looking to increase market share, make more money and install herself as ruler of planet Earth head of that dreadful Nixon fellow.
Constantly undermined by her unwanted and unloved children she has left then at home for the potentially deadly Big Evil contest, taking in instead the cunning kleptomaniac that is Bender, something that could well be a shrewd tactical stroke. Or one big mistake.

She may look kindly and innocent but underneath the carefully projected public image Mom is as cold and evil as any of our other contenders.

Profile 9: Doctor Robotnik

Age: Keeps telling everyone he's in his mid thirties.

Eyes: Stolen from Gambit, oddly, though sometimes he hides them behind gnarly shades.

Hair: Bald head and ginger beard. Hard to tell which is the greater fashion crime.

Girth: Ample, and then some. Frequently seen in a bewildering array hideously beweaponed anti-gravity pods that would probably be more destructive were they not forced to hold his ludicrous frame.

Turn Ons: Building robots; trapping animals inside robots; using robots to annex islands with strangely partitioned geography.

Turn Offs: Pretanaturally agile insectivores; airborne vulpines; having his name changed when he's not looking.

Nemesis: A hedgehog with ADHD and kleptomaniac tendencies. Frankly, any supergenius who builds robots insufficiently sturdy to repel attacks from undergrowth-dwelling spined mammals isn't worthy of the title.

Luxury Items: Four dozen Mechano sets and seven pyschotic bunny rabbits.

Minion: An oversized robot crab piloted by a sociopathic baby seal named Larry.

A mad doctor truly worthy of the name. It's one thing to imagine an endless horde of sadistic robots trampling the world beneath their treads, but it's quite another to bring your sick vision to fruition by using helpless animals as batteries. Which of us can honestly say they've never stared at a mewling kitten or chirping bluebird and not thought "I could totally just stick that inside a giant killer robotic centipede and use it to conquer Green Hill Zone."?

No-one. That's what I thought.

Doctor Robotnik is a real potential contender in the Big Evil house, but he will have to bide his time, as until he assembles his unstoppable army of killer droids, he's essentially just a fat man with a faintly suspicious interest in children's playsets.

Profile 8: Sauron

Age: Got to see Middle Earth get slapped together. Demands for "Less elves and poncing, more werewolves and ripping things" went tragically unheeded.

Eyes: Only needs the one. This dude is too bad-ass to need depth perception.

Hair: Probably not.

Helmet: Needlessly spiky.

Turn-Ons: Bling; placing his soul within bling; sending other, less blinged-up malevolent spirits to get his bling back for him.

Turn-Offs: Constantly losing his bling whenever he has his hands chopped off by mortal kings, or sometimes when doing the washing-up.

Nemesis: Unwashed, greasy-haired bums demanding to be considered royalty; being beaten by midgets too damn stupid to have developed the technology necessary for creating socks.

Luxury Items: Magnifying glass ("I can see you!"); replica of the One Ring he bought off e-bay from an overweight single man named "Arwen'sDream69."

Choice of Minion: Wanted a Ring-Wraith, but due to a clerical error has been forced to settle instead for a solitary orc, Hargrat "Larry" Bloodgut.

As one of the race of beings that watched the world be formed, and later chose to use it as their personal playground, Sauron is not the sort of immortal demi-God one would wish to spill the pint of. This is a guy who used to use werewolves and vampires as foot troops. You remember that huge great bat-lion of molten lava who almost did for Gandalf? That guy was a lieutenant. He had to answer to his captain, who was presumably a fifty-foot tall half shark, half-dragon made of razorblades and boiling acid.

True, Sauron may no longer be entirely on top of his game, what with the armies of the Free People's constantly marching across Pelennor Fields so as to ruin his shit, but even in his weakened state, his ability to turn his enemies against each other will make him a tough opponent to beat.

Unless Avon finds out he's East Side, obviously. Then some homie gonna get punked, feel me?

Profile 7: Galactus

GALACTUS

Age: The span of this universe, plus change.

Eyes: The size of beachballs.

Hair: Strawberry blonde, but we didn't tell you that.

Hats: Rakish and fashionable, at least on any planet that doesn't want to get itself eaten.

Turn Ons: Consuming planets, preferably with balsamic vinegar and a side salad.

Turn Offs: Mortal interference, rebellious flunkies, gas giants (they give him wind).

Nemesis: The Fantastic Four, mainly the stretchy one who won't stop whining.
.

Luxury Items: Elemental Converter, ludicrously large golf umbrella.

Choice Of Minion: The Silver Surfer. The Kirby one, obviously, because the Moebius Silver Surfer was shit.

There are some who might say that Galactus is not truly evil, that he represents eternity within our galaxy, and that his world-consuming hunger should be viewed with rage, but with awe, and perhaps even pity.

Galactus would eat those pussies for breakfast and not even notice. This is a dude so ridiculously hard that the destruction of the last universe didn't finish him off (though it did make him a little peckish). Like him or loathe him, what the Hell does he care? He's going to drink your oceans, and swallow the moon as an aperatif.

Whilst powerful beyond belief, Galactus may find it hard to fit into Big Evil. That damned Surfer is liable to keep scheming against him, for starters. Then there's the fact that he's too big for the house and will have to stand in the garden and hope it doesn't snow. Still, at least no-one will demand that he does his share of the , in case he serves up Venus on a bed of fennel.

Profile 6 : Avon Barksdale

Avon Barksdale

Age : 38

Eyes : Brown, steely

Hair : Cropped or shaven

Body Type : Wiry

Turn-Ons : honeys, money, soldiering

Turn-Offs : POlice, Omar, East side er 'individuals'.

Nemesis : The closet thing Avon has to a nemesis is Omar Little. Little is something of a wild card in 'the game' and a constant thorn in the side of Avon's operation as he robs stash houses, terrorises the hoppers and generally looks to cause chaos as he seeks revenge for the brutal murder of a former lover by Avon. To some extent the special crimes unit of Baltimore PD also dog Avon's life but he was largely unaware of them until they came a'knocking.

Luxury Items : a beanie hat, a old pair of boxing gloves, a pager for him and his minion.

Choice of minion : Brother Mouzone. Mouzone is a terrifying individual. Smart, relentless and ruthless he is a hired killer who is very good at what he does and also enjoys a good read, rarely seen without a copy of 'The Nation' magazine.

Avon is an old fashion gangster, having fought his was to the top of Baltimore's drug scene he now finds himself having to do it all over again in our house. He's a cool character, a committed family man, not often prone to losing his temper but it can get ugly when he does. Admittedly he has no time for over complicated plans or schemes and much prefers the direct approach to his work, proper old school 'soldiering' as he would say.

As for the potential long confinement he has no worries, after all as he says "you only do two days, the day you go in and the day you come out"

Profile 5: Evil The Cat

EVIL THE CAT

Age: Either as old as evil, or as old as cats, though they may in fact be the same thing.

Eyes: Seven times more sensitive than yours, human.

Hair: Off white and meticulously groomed.

Turn-Ons: Punishing Hench-Rat; trying to destroy the entire universe.

Turn-Offs: Temporary setbacks; people asking what comes after the obliteration of all existence.

Nemesis: An earthworm in a suit. Alright, the suit is bad-ass, but c'mon, an earthworm? Constantly hampered by a mutant puppy that periodically attempts to kill him? I thought cats were supposed to be smart.

Luxury Items: Fireball gun, catnip, tape of elevator music.

Choice Of Minion: Hench-Rat, mainly because a team of rabid lawyers would cost too much on retainer. What Hench-Rat lacks in competence, he makes up for in maintenance fees. And expendability, frankly. Plenty more rats in the dump, though they may not all be wearing suits of cybernetic cheese.

The Supreme Avatar of Destruction needs no other name. Or clothes. Though some kitty litter and a scratching post would hit the spot, thanks. Evil the Cat is so relentlessly tough and villainous that only the total destruction of all reality will do. That's not even his job; it's a goddamn hobby. Whilst you and I collect stamps or go rambling, Evil the Cat considers how best to unmake all that exists. Well, either that, or he licks at his genitals for a while. Which in itself is pretty bad-ass, when you consider the damage his teeth could do. Self-spaying might sound funny, but it's a serious business.

This is no ordinary cat. This is the Alpha cat. This is the moggy that runs from dogs purely because he remembers where he's parked his Sherman tank. This is the cat Chuck Norris would have, assuming that Chuck had turned to the dark side and come into possession of a large quantity of Whiskas Gravy Chicken. If this furious feline has a weakness, it's that even the most temporary of alliances will be difficult to forge when destroying the metaverse is your stated intent.

Also, balls of wool. This kitty is a sucker for balls of wool. Wook at him pwaying wiv it! Awwwww!

Profile 4 : The Sheriff of Nottingham

THE SHERIFF OF NOTTINGHAM

Age: Mid-forties.

Eyes: Shifty.

Hair: Greasy.

Religion: Satanism (Masquerade Ball Chapter).

Is Pleased By: Deposing kings, setting stuff on fire, a strict timetabling system for visiting hookers.

Is Vexed By: Vigilantes, large stitches, Brian Blessed.

Luxury Items: A sword, a spoon, a spork (just in case), Grabthar‘s Hammer (due to a clerical error)

Choice Of Minion: The witless yet eager-to-please Guy of Gisbourne, who might just get lucky and be murdered by someone else before the Sheriff can get round to it.

The most bad-ass pantomime villain the Twelfth Century ever produced. This guy will mess you up, and he’ll do it with any damn cutlery piece he pleases. Then, just for kicks, he’ll cancel Jesus’ birthday. Because he can. This is a man who will take on Sean Connery, for God’s sake. Admittedly, he’ll wait until Connery’s in another country first, but the guy used to be James Bond, you can’t fault Mr Of Nottingham for showing a little caution.

The Sheriff’s attention to detail and all-round wiliness may make him a formidable player in the game. His biggest weaknesses though lie in an incompetent henchman, a lack of special powers, and the possibility that he will go into an extended sulk once he realises the basement no longer contains a malignant witch, only a hoover that he will expected to use to clean the living room with on alternate Wednesdays.

Profile 3 : Agent Smith

AGENT SMITH

Age: Unknown.
Eyes: Green machine code.
Hair: Slicked back machine code style
Body Type: Lithe

Turn-Ons: Sharp suits, designer sunglasses, eliminating rogue software.

Turn-Offs: The acrid stench of humanity, hard line telephones, surfer dudes

Nemesis: Neo a.k.a 'The One' a.k.a "Dude where's my revolution?" Once a lowly software programmer now the idiot saviour of humanity. Whilst still only human he has learnt to push the boundaries of the matrix itself. He flies, fights and struts like a hero should. Ironically it was his interference that has set Smith free.

Luxury Items: Twelve pairs of Ray-bans, a broken ear piece, a portable DVD player with a copy of Multiplicity

Choice Of Minion: Agent Smith. Or rather another Agent Smith. Able to replicate himself but overwriting the code of other's Smith has chosen to copy over a poor production runner and create a second 'him' to take with him. After all the best about being him is there are so many of him.

Agent Smith is basically a virus removal programme within The Matrix, he exists to remove and delete malfunctioning programmes and remove pesky viruses from the system such as humans who have broken free of their mental prisons.

After a long pursuit of Morpheus Smith though he finally has his man only for Neo to load up with guns, lots of guns and spoil the torture party. During the confrontation Smith was exploded from the inside by the upstart Mr Anderson and found himself undergoing something of an epiphany when being reinstalled to the system. Now with new found vigour he is looking to finally show the world what he is capable of and be recognised everywhere he goes - largely by the fact that everywhere he goes everyone will be him.

Profile 2 : Megatron

MEGATRON

Age: Unknown.

Eyes: Red.

Hair: None.

Body Type : Gun metal (grey)

Turn-Ons: Blasting things, berating minions, ruling Cybertron, giant killer planets.

Turn-Offs: Autobots, puny humans.

Nemesis: The noble and rather tiringly moral Optimus Prime. The leader of the Autobots has stood in Megatron's way for many years despite clearly not being a tactical genius. One shall stand and one shall fall (eventually)

Luxury Items: A box of energon, gun wax, handgun display case, a copy of 'The Man Who Would Be King'

Choice Of Minion: Starscream. Whilst the two have had a troubled working relationship Starscream has served as Megatron's right hand robot for a long time. Narky, devious and always looking to overthrown his master Star scream is as much hindrance as help.

The powerful and ruthless Megatron leads his fellow decepticons in their battle against the Autobots in a civil war that has raged for countless years across Cybertron. As the conflict expanded across the universe Megatron always called Cyberton home and has fought alongside sworn enemies in the past to protect it.

Coming closest to the losing his homeland when he had a brief dalliance with a giant planet eating entity by name of Unicron. The relationship quickly ended when, well, Unicron exploded, but you know these things happen.

He should perform well with a number of given advantages (first off he actually is a weapon, he can confusingly change his size to suit events and giant robots always tend to fend well against fleshy types) but will need to be careful not to be undermined by his own minion and try to suppress his impulse to order retreat at the first sign of carefully laid plans going awry.

Profile 1 : Skeletor

SKELETOR

Age: I'm guessing old.

Eyes: Not any more.

Hair: No hair either. Stop picking on the poor guy.

Genitals: Oh come on! That's not even a category. You want him to start crying hot, salty tears from his non-eyes? Cos that will freak you out!

Turn-Ons: Berating minions; trying to nick magic castles.

Turn-Offs: Moralising lectures; facial cleanser.

Nemesis: A freaky Aryan with the business end of half a magic sword and a deeply distressing obsession with body-building. Overcompensate much?

Luxury Items: Havoc staff; magic sword (the crappy half).

Choice Of Minion: Mer-Man, whose insistence upon fleeing at the slightest provocation can make for a useful diversion.

The Evil Lord of Destruction. A demon from another dimension. A sorcerer so skilled and evil that he once beat a man with the head of a dead pig. This is not an guy that you want to on get the wrong side of. He'll turn you into a frog and then cackle campily as his flunkies try to capture you (a job which they will inevitably bungle, of course). Alright, so he's unable to recognise the same person once they discard their pink waistcoat and white skinny-T, but the man hasn't any eyes; so give him a break.

Skeletor's biggest weakness could be his sentimentality. This may be revealed once he begins to miss his pet panther, Panthor (itself a replacement for his hamster Hamstor, which Beast-Man ate under the impression it was a strangely furry Twinkie). After all, deep down, all Skeletor really wants is to be loved.

And to take over the universe. And to have a face.

Do I look like I ordered the bouillabaisse, you purple Irish harlot?