We built the Eiffel Tower out of custard cream biscuits, each brick cemented onto the one below with icing sugar and bargain margarine, a French flag of white card and toothpick fluttering atop the observatory  bubble. Today the structure wobbles ominously in the breeze blowing through the south court. Those arts students, the natscis would sneer if we were to tell them we spent a morning constructing confectionary wonders of the world. (One Eiffel Tower is equivalent to the recommended saturated fat intake for two months.)