Sometime around 1511, the Holy Roman Emperor commissioned master armor craftsman Konrad Seusenhofer to create this steampunk amalgamation of fear and awesome as a gift for young King Henry. This is real. You are not dreaming. King Henry VIII once wore the mask above in all seriousness, probably at court pageants and as a way to shock a male heir out of his wife's womb. It eventually worked. Probably because of those baby tombstones posing as teeth.
Imagine if you came across a guy whose smile revealed a tiny privacy fence where his teeth should be. Nothing is in its natural toothlike position, all the teeth have a Bobby Brownish gap between them, and they're uniformly distributed across a mouth that looks like it's been pinned open by invisible fat aunts on each side. That's who modeled for this mask. Or even worse, the artist was a blind man who never actually saw a real person in his life -- this is the closest facsimile to "human" he could come up with. Kind of like whoever made Lionel Richie's head in "Hello."
She'd later go on to be the lead designer of Chia Pets.
If you're not looking at the Chiclet teeth or the dookie horns, you're looking at those yellow glasses. Historians think that Henry was actually nearsighted, a theory supplemented by the fact that there were dozens of glasses in his possession after his death. Which leaves us with a very important question: What if these glasses are totally serious? What if the glasses are the one thing that actually looks like it belongs to Henry? It kind of changes everything.
Just looking at the mask, you're so overwhelmed by its audacity that it's hard to see the workmanship involved. The joints allowed for the visor to be removed, so experts think that there were multiple faces that could be attached. Maybe one of the other visors was a Groucho mask or a frowny face for when Henry was feeling serious. Or maybe they cut right to the chase and made it Flavor Flav.
Hourglass chain is optional.