Diary – 10 July 2010

When I finally croak, this is what it’s gonna say on my headstone: ‘Ozzy Osbourne: born 1948; died whenever. PS: He bit the head off a bat.’ It’s been almost 30 years since I mistook that bat for a rubber toy — it’s not like I wanted to get rabies shots for the next two months — but it’s still the first question out of people’s mouths when I’m promoting a new album. But that’s what comes with being the Prince of Darkness, I suppose, so I’m not complaining — especially not when my new record, Scream, has gone into the Top Ten of the album charts in seven different countries this week. Not bad for a 61-year-old with five grandkids, eh? What a lot of people don’t realise, though, is how much I’ve changed, not just since Crazy Train, but also since the days when I was filming The Osbournes.