Twas somewhere up the country, in the land of vindaloo,
That they formed an institution called the Leicester Theory Crew
They were tough and cunning theorists of the rugged astro kind
And the pub was never opened that Leicester couldn't find
But their ways of doing astro were irregular and rash
They had mighty little science, but a mighty lot of dash
And they played with big computers that were parallel and fast
Though their codes were badly written, and their methods made you gasp
And they used to write those papers after downing quite a few
They were demons were the theorists of the Leicester Theory Crew

I crash my planets into the sun
I lose my jupiters one by one
the jovians die
the terrestrials fry
but the chemical enrichment is none