My Daughter: The Scientist.

Daughter: After literally an hour's ceaseless searching, in Chemistry this afternoon I have succeeded in creating gold. PURE GOLD!
Mama: Are you sure?

Daughter: Yes, Mama! Behold! (uncovers the top; their faces get bathed in
green light)
Mama: Daughter, it's green.

Daughter: That's right, Mama.
Mama: Yes, Daughter, I don't want to be pedantic or anything, but the colour of gold is gold -- that's why it's called gold. What you have discovered, if it has a name, is some green.

Daughter: (stupefied; picks up the green) Oh, Mama, can it be true? That I hold here, in my mortal hand, a nugget of purest green?


She has forgotten what it is she has made....I may be harbouring weapons grade fissionable material....I await the Serious Organised Crimes and Terrorism people.


And apologies to the Blackadder scriptwriters for shamelessly ripping off their work!