My minions have drawn a crown for me. Everything they draw, when I look at it, appears on me. They have a pile of photocopied head shots. I look in the mirror as they cower behind me. It's a tall golden affair with lots of rubies. 'Hmm, I don't like it,' (I'm a difficult tyrant) 'make it... broader.' They scurry off and start scribbling anew.