Hello everyone and welcome to episode 208, I Heart Henry.

Well good lord, last time Henry VII went and died on us after a reign of 24 years, which

is as you know a reasonably substantial reign. What I thought I'd do today with your

permission though, on the slate's little late to object is describe the immediate events

after Henry's death and the start of the new reign and then have a wee chat about what

we think of Henry VII.

Was he, as mad as a box of cheese, by the end? Was he, as effective as he said he was, did

he really save England from the chaos of the Wars of the Roses, was he in fact a Tudor

in Ningcompoop? Is that really even a word?

Which is a course a terrible question, because now I've gone to the LED and looked it up.

Ningcompoop, first used in 1673, would you believe, and no one knows where it comes from,

but to poop, interestingly, originally meant to fool or deceive.

And then also Ningcompoopania is also a word, a 19th century aesthetic movement pouring

scorn on dandies and I say again, huh, good golly Miss Molly, and anyway, onward.

So as we heard yesterday on April 21st, 1509, Henry VII briefed his last. It was very

public death as it happened, or at least there were a number of people present, but I guess

that's the case with all mullocks. Now one of them, Thomas Rotter's lead, a drawing

which is rather nice, and which you can see at the history of England.co.uk, there are

a cast of thousands standing around the bed. Well, I exaggerate there are about 14 people,

or 15, since we have to include garter herald Thomas Rotter's lead sketching away the

back off camera. Most of the people are grooms and duchers, and there are three physicians

carrying pots, looking worried, nervously fingering their necks.

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