The following conversation took place between two of the Mercury's writers after emerging from a press screening of Mr. Bean's Holiday. —Editor
SCOTT MOORE: I love Mr. Bean! I find him drool-inducingly funny. Ha ha ha!
MATT DAVIS: I'm not surprised to hear that, Scott. There's actually still a bit of drool on your shirt, there. Wipe it off.
SM: What an ingenious plot! Winning an all-expenses-paid vacation to Cannes in the church lottery? What hijinks!
SM: And what acting! What physical comedy! What highbrow humor! There were even people speaking French!
MD: You don't speak French.
MD: Vous êtes un imbécile des proportions gargantuan.
MD: I said this movie was not funny.
SM: But he's British—Mr. Bean?! He's from your country. Aren't you proud?
MD: No, Scott. To think Rowan Atkinson, who once starred in the razor-sharp BBC series Blackadder, has been reduced to whoring himself for cheap laughs makes me want to jump off a bridge.
SM: You mean like that guy in the movie? That guy who jumped off the bridge?! That was funny, man. I almost peed my pants!
MD: Yes, Scott. I think there's actually a spot of pee on your Dockers. But I don't laugh at suicides.
SM: You're not serious.
MD: I am deadly serious, Moore.
SM: You're a snob.
MD: And you're an imbecile of gargantuan proportions.
MD: [hoots with laughter of sadistic glee] This movie is all that you deserve! Yet I am still ashamed of my countrymen for flogging it to you. Where once was class and intellect, now there lies cultural ruins.
MD: I wish I were dead.