Do you know the history of King Henry VIII? The six wives, his creation of the Church of England, which we all know as Anglican Church, when the pope denied him a divorce? Here is a few points, the real story is straight-up nightmare fuel.

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This was a king so grotesquely obese, his waist measured 54 inches — bigger than most people are tall. He weighed 400 pounds in an era when 140 was average. His legs oozed pus from open, rotting ulcers so foul, servants gagged or ran away. His stench could be smelled from rooms away. His body decayed while he was still alive — and when he died, his coffin exploded from internal gases. Yes, exploded.

By the end of his life, Henry was a walking corpse — literally. Carried around by servants, trailed by staff mopping up pieces of dead flesh that fell off as he moved. His death was so gruesome, dogs were seen licking his remains off the street during the funeral.

Why was he like this? Likely a combination of Cushing’s syndrome, a traumatic brain injury from a jousting accident, and unchecked power. That injury? Knocked him unconscious for 2 hours — after that, he changed: paranoid, erratic, dangerous.

And yes, the wives.
You know about the beheadings, but not the psychological torture.
Anne Boleyn? She was forced to watch five innocent men — including her own brother — executed before she lost her head to false charges.

Katherine Howard? She was just a teen, murdered because of past relationships. Henry even made a law requiring wives to confess their full sexual history — under threat of death. Divorce wasn’t freedom — it was forced, terrifying negotiation.

Meanwhile, he ate like a monster. 5,000+ calories a day. Whole pigs, chickens, fish, gallons of wine. He believed swans made him graceful, oysters enhanced performance, and deer made him a better hunter. He banned “commoner food” like turnips because it offended his royal ego. Kitchens ran 24/7 with over 200 staff just to feed him — and every bite was tested for poison while guards watched. Meals were military operations.

And his paranoia? They were off the charts. Crossbows by his bed, daggers under his pillow, armed guards in his bedroom. Secret tunnels in castles. Spy networks spying on other spies. Even his children were watched. People were executed for dreams he had about betrayal.

Even in death, Henry caused chaos. His bloated corpse burst mid-funeral. His tomb? So unstable it collapsed multiple times. Some said they heard strange noises and smelled rot years later — likely more gases leaking out.

This wasn’t just a king. He was a decaying symbol of how absolute power corrupts absolutely. The real Henry VIII was no hero — he was a royal horror story.