BRITMETAL 1985: Thank U For The Daze
As I write, the mere shadow of what was once Ozzy Osbourne—proud, free, fat, feared by the beasts of the field—is wandering about, clutching his fur coat to his ribs, yet another victim (Elizabeth Taylor, Tony Curtis, Jamie Lee Curtis too, by the looks of her) of the Betty Ford Dryout Home.
BRITMETAL 1985: Thank U For The Daze
Sylvie Simmons
As I write, the mere shadow of what was once Ozzy Osbourne—proud, free, fat, feared by the beasts of the field—is wandering about, clutching his fur coat to his ribs, yet another victim (Elizabeth Taylor, Tony Curtis, Jamie Lee Curtis too, by the looks of her) of the Betty Ford Dryout Home. No longer a barrel of laughs (no longer a barrel, the new Oz sports a willy deVillean atrophied bod, probably because he had to cook for himself and do keep-fit classes at the clinic), his pale face can only gaze long ingly as his band raise their glasses.