Being inside Ozzy Osbourne’s mind sounds like an absolute ride. The sort of ride that sometimes you really, really want to get off.
The late rock legend and Black Sabbath frontman describes the “unexploded bomb” of addiction, in a stream of consciousness which bounces from hilarity to sadness in a heartbeat. Last Rites, published posthumously, is his second memoir.
The first, I am Ozzy, came out in 2009. It is an absolute miracle that he lasted as long as he did, with periods of his life where he was drinking four bottles of cognac a day and taking vast quantities of drugs, and yet somehow, this powerhouse was still touring at 76. Getting old, he says, “turned out to be absolutely nothing like I’d expected”.
The book opens prophetically, “You never cheat Death, not really. He’s always keeping score. And sooner or later, he’s gonna call in his final debt. This is the story of how he called in mine.” He is amazed that he outlived Bowie, George Michael, Prince.
This is a collection of completely outrageous tales from another era. The public outpouring of grief for the man who many knew not for his music but for his unfiltered on-screen behaviour and familial rows in The Osbournes, and for the fact that he once ate the head off a bat on-stage, was clear: Osbourne was a national treasure. So, of course we will lap up whatever more we can get from someone who was actually, through his absolute refusal to live by societal, conversational or behavioural norms, a comic genius.
This is a collection of completely outrageous tales from another era
Yes, it would have been tempting to give this book a bit more of an edit. Instead, it reads as though it was written via dictation, it’s that much in his voice “I felt so fucking down, man”... “Concorde was such a scene, man… the best way to travel if you were a raging alcoholic”.

It covers his alcoholism, his final tour, Sabbath break-ups and reunions, his Parkinsons, fallings out, reunions, family, a lot of being told off by Sharon, and ultimately the illnesses and injuries which lead him to his death in July 2025.
It races between present and past in a wild mash of Ozzy lexicon and “fucks”. The stories are wild, and fun, and funny. It swings between hilarious, pure Hollywood (Elizabeth Taylor, Robin Williams, Sylvester Stallone and Rod Stewart all turned up at one of his bashes) and poignant.
The relentlessly bad decisions he describes making while out of it on drink and drugs are anxiety-inducing
At times the memories are scant “Matthew Perry used to come to our house for AA meetings, Sharon tells me”, at other points the stories of a studio session, say, are in intricate detail. The relentlessly bad decisions he describes making while out of it on drink and drugs are anxiety-inducing. Quite how he — and anyone in his vicinity — survived it, is anyone’s guess. Spending half a million pounds during one bender. Trying to strangle Sharon. Racing his Jag around blind corners on country lanes — the only surprise is that he didn’t actually kill anyone, or himself. One thing’s for sure — they don’t make them like this any more.
Last rites by Ozzy Osbourne is published on October 7