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 credits.
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