"Now, pay attention 007. If you want to defeat this Drax character, you're going to need some of this rather special equipment we've dreamt up in Q Division.""It had better be good, Q. Drax will stop at nothing in his quest for world domination and it's going to be a tough job finishing him off."
"Speaking of jobs, 007, we've got just the thing for you. Hang on a second..."
"What ARE you doing, Q? Why, in the name of God are you dropping your trousers?"
"...NNnnnnnng..."
"Is... is that what I think it is?"
"Yes... Nnnnnng... Yes it is, Bond. NNnnnnng... Done."
"And what the Dickens...?"
"...do we expect you to do with it? DO keep up, 007, it's very simple. You wait until you're close quarters with the enemy, and you release it from its airtight compartment in your left shoe."
"And it explodes?"
"No, 007, it does not explode."
"Then... what?"
"Simple. While the cur's stamping about trying to find out who's done a jobbie in his secret hideout, you hit him with your secret weapon."
"Ah good, I wondered when you were getting round to that."
"Please stop interrupting Bond, I've got a hot date with Moneypenny and she'll be withered away to nothing by the time I get there. As I was saying, when Drax is diverted by the Secret Turd, you hit him with the secret weapon."
"And how do I detonate it?"
"Manually, 007, manually. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"You mean to say that I shoot my load into his eye, he wheels away in shock and disgust, falling into the rotating blades of his own over-complicated death machine, thus saving both the world and British interests in the face of lurid Russian expansionism."
"Exactly."
"Rule Britannia, Q, Rule Britannia."
"Oh, do grow up."
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