I Am Ozzy

I Am Ozzy

Ozzy Osbourne, Chris Ayres

Language: English

Pages: 416

ISBN: 0446569909

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

"They've said some crazy things about me over the years. I mean, okay: 'He bit the head off a bat.' Yes. 'He bit the head off a dove.' Yes. But then you hear things like, 'Ozzy went to the show last night, but he wouldn't perform until he'd killed fifteen puppies . . .' Now me, kill fifteen puppies? I love puppies. I've got eighteen of the f**king things at home. I've killed a few cows in my time, mind you. And the chickens. I shot the chickens in my house that night.

It haunts me, all this crazy stuff. Every day of my life has been an event. I took lethal combinations of booze and drugs for thirty f**king years. I survived a direct hit by a plane, suicidal overdoses, STDs. I've been accused of attempted murder. Then I almost died while riding over a bump on a quad bike at f**king two miles per hour.

People ask me how come I'm still alive, and I don't know what to say. When I was growing up, if you'd have put me up against a wall with the other kids from my street and asked me which one of us was gonna make it to the age of sixty, which one of us would end up with five kids and four grandkids and houses in Buckinghamshire and Beverly Hills, I wouldn't have put money on me, no f**king way. But here I am: ready to tell my story, in my own words, for the first time.

A lot of it ain't gonna be pretty. I've done some bad things in my time. I've always been drawn to the dark side, me. But I ain't the devil. I'm just John Osbourne: a working-class kid from Aston, who quit his job in the factory and went looking for a good time."

Autobiography of Mark Twain, Volume 3 (The Complete and Authoritative Edition)

Life Is a Gift: The Zen of Bennett

Wings of Fire

Letters From Prison

The Boy Who Loved Apples: A mother's battle with her son's anorexia











other place in my head. Sharon's operation was on July 3, 2002. When it was done, and the cancer had been removed, the doctor said that she'd make a full recovery. But while they were digging around up there, they took out a couple of lymph nodes for testing. Days later, the lab confirmed that the cancer had spread into her lymph nodes. Which meant the worst wasn't over - not by a long shot. I didn't know it at the time, but Sharon's chances of survival were only about 33 per cent. All I knew

could hardly afford to put food on the table, never mind take out a PS250 loan on an amplifier and two speakers. But in those days you couldn't call yourself a singer without your own PA. You might as well have tried to get a gig as a drummer without a kit. Even my old man knew that. So he took me down to George Clay's music shop by the Rum Runner nightclub in Birmingham and we picked out this fifty-watt Vox system. I hope my father knew how grateful I was for him doing that. I mean, he didn't

took the leftover cartridges out of my pocket and started throwing them into the fire. Bang! Bang! Bang-bang-bang! 'Heh-heh-heh,' I went. Then something moved behind me. I almost fell over the gun and shot myself in the nuts with fright. I turned around to see a chicken legging it away from me. That little fucker! I heard myself letting out this weird, psycho noise - 'Eeeeaaaargggghhhh!' - then, without even thinking, I set off after it. I didn't know what the fuck was wrong with me, or why

Motorhead on that tour, too. He's a very close friend of the family now. I love that guy. Wherever there's a beer tent in the world, there's Lemmy. But I've never seen that man fall down drunk, y'know? Even after twenty or thirty pints. I don't know how he does it. I wouldn't be surprised if he outlived me andKeith Richards. Motorhead opened a few shows for us on that tour. They had this old hippy bus - it was the cheapest thing they could find - and all Lemmy would carry around with him was

goes, 'Mrs Osbourne, you do realise that there are people in third world countries who give birth without an epidural all the time, don't you?' Big mistake, that was. Sharon sat up in bed and screamed, 'LISTEN, YOU FUCKHEAD, THIS ISN'T A FUCKING THIRD WORLD COUNTRY, SO GET ME A FUCKING ANAESTHETIST!' An hour later, Kelly came out into the world, screaming - and she hasn't stopped since, bless her. She's a real chip off the old block, is Kelly. I think that's why I've always felt so protective of

Download sample