Henry VIII: Dressed to Kill

The sheer volume of historical facts to be gleaned from the current crop of exhibitions on the reign of Henry VIII are enough to keep the average gallery-goer occupied for the entire 500th anniversary year of the king's accession to the throne. The Tower of London has taken the wise decision to present a select few facets of Henry's life in an accessible, easily digestible and, crucially, entertaining package that feels less like a textbook and more like a time travelling trip through history's greatest hits.

The setting for the 'Henry VIII: Dressed to Kill' is absolutely key. As at Hampton Court, this is where the exhibition artefacts were used during the monarch's lifetime, making it a breeze to conjure up vivid scenes in your imagination of life at court with the exhibits in supporting roles.

Before heading to the White Tower where the exhibition is displayed, it's highly recommended you take one of the Yeoman Warden-led tours starting every 20 minutes from the main entrance (except in rainy weather). Your designated Beefeater will regale you with facts and apocryphal palace gossip, possibly peppered with sexist but essentially good-natured quips such as this, a comment on the legend that after her head was lopped off in one clean stroke, Ann Boleyn continued to talk for 25 seconds: 'And this, ladies and gentlemen, is another example of a woman always getting the last word.'

The exhibition focuses on armours and weapons associated with the Tudor king (a helpful icon denotes items which personally belonged to Henry). His Highness's armours are spectacularly displayed, mounted on specially sculpted white horses which give a vivid impression of the scale of the apparel ñ this protective gear is far more cumbersome than might be expected.

Before he reached his famously corpulent older years, Henry was quite a sportsman, partaking passionately (sometimes dangerously) in hunting, wrestling, archery, foot combat and jousting with unwieldy 14-ft lances. Two of the more unusual exhibits on this theme are a tennis ball stuffed with dog hair used in 'real tennis', a sport which Henry fought to keep elite, and a leather-covered pig's bladder believed to be the oldest football in the world, (the game was so violent in the sixteenth century that plebians were banned from playing it because of the risk of riots).

Unfinished but still impressive is the king's 'Silver and Engraved' armour from 1515, designed to fit the king's body exactly and made of overlapping, moving parts, including a protruding codpiece which one suspects was oversized in order to massage the wearer's ego.

The second floor, Henry the Warrior, is less bombastic, and geared towards visitors keen to scrutinise a parade of weaponry and its accompanying annotations. The most memorable exhibit is a bizarre horned helmet given as a diplomatic gift to Henry by Emperor Maximilian of Rome. Those with children in tow should leave time to try on a replica three-bar pot helmet, commonly known as a lobster pot ('pot' being the generic nickname for a helmet) on the third floor.

The last level, on Henry the Legend, is otherwise a little threadbare, dominated by a screen of projected portraits of the king at different stages of his life which is given too much space for the contribution it makes, as well as a small screen showing mini-documentaries of extracurricular court life ñ which may have offered more depth were they audible enough.

However, in the Hands On History room next to the exhibition, permanent displays offer interactive activities such as giving kids the chance to guess the purpose of various weapons and place their heads inside a half-helmet in recessed into the wall, to reveal the sights and sounds of a battle re-enactment.

There's enough to experience at the Tower to fill half a day and, fully embracing the brave new multi-platform media world, the website (www.hrp.org.uk) has a smattering of downloads including instructions for making your own helmet. Historic Royal Palaces have gone all out with Henrymania, resulting in a rewarding and laudable tribute to one of their most (in)famous residents.