INT. NATIONAL GALLERY. BOARDROOM - DAY
A very grand room, with lots of wood and some very famous portraits
round the walls.
A group of grave gentlemen and gentlewomen. They are the trustees of
the National Gallery. LORD WALTON, a very grand man, sits at the table
head. To his right sits his assistant, GARETH. All are deep in
thought. LORD WALTON fidgets with a pencil on the table. He raises
his head as though about to speak. Everyone looks up expectantly.
And... LORD WALTON goes back to fidgeting. So does everyone else.
CREDIT. POLYGRAM & WORKING TITLE PRESENT.
INT. NATIONAL GALLERY. BOARD ROOM - DAY
The scene is as silent and static as we left it Last... then:
I suppose we could just sack him.
EXT. MR BEAN'S STREET. DAY
Mr BEAN comes out of his house, ready to face the world-
He walks up the street, tutting slightly at a 'NO PARKING' sign he
passes. The street is totally car-free except for a very visible lime
green mini. A policeman strolls by and glances down at a pair of legs
sticking out from under it, next to a toolbox. He moves on, satisfied
that someone is mending their car.
BEAN approaches the car and whips out the fake legs he left there. He
then unlocks the big padlock that secures the car door, pops the fake
legs inside, fiddles with something else in the back seat, and drives
away at a frightening speed with a smug look on his face.
The Theme Music - big and dramatic - begins, as do the rest of the
BEAN gaily motors on - then unexpectedly the sweeping theme tune jumps,
as if it has hit a scratch: the cinema audience should be worried
there's a sound fault.
BEAN comes to a street full of sleeping policemen ~ he goes at them at
quite a lick - and every time he shoots over one of the bumps, the
theme tune jumps violently.
BEAN looks a little annoyed into the back seat - we now see the cause
of the problem. Instead of having a car radio, BEAN has an old record
player strapped into the back seat, playing the theme tune.
On he drives, through empty streets - then JOLT - he's reached the
glorious familiarity of Central London, Big Ben and all - but heels now
in dreadful traffic.
Heels not happy. He looks to the left and sees a very thin alleyway.
He takes out a metal comb from his pocket and, using it like a bomber's
sight-line-checker, measures the front of his car and the width of the
alley. He 'S satisfied - does a 90-degree turn - and shoots down the
alley. It is such a perfect fit that sparks fly from the door handles
as they graze the walls.
But at the end of the alley, the traffic's just as bad. BEAN notices
he's outside Harrods. There's a tail-coated Security Guard at the
'front door. BEAN watches him stroll a bit down the street - and takes
his chance. He turns and drives straight through the double doors,
into the store.
INT. HARRODS. DAY.
BEAN and his car whizz through the ground floor, past perfume counters
and leather glove racks.
CUT TO a Security Guard. As he passes one of the counters, BEAN's
little car just shoots behind him. The Guard continues through the
Children's section there are giant elephants and teddies, children's
size cars, then two huge plastic tractors - and then, stock still,
strangely in harmony actually, the Lime Green Mini with BEAN in it.
The Guard walks straight past.
The moment he is gone, BEAN shoots off again - but, damn!, spies
another Guard and is forced to turn and drive down some very steep
stairs indeed. The theme song goes CRAZY as the record player jumps.