Still recovering from his recent quad bike accident, Ozzy was ecstatic after receiving a letter from Canadian PM Paul Martin informing him he was to receive a special award from his government. And it is natural responses like this that continue to make Ozzy a hugely endearing figure. Even when he was invited to the White House for a meal with George Bush, he somehow maintained his credibility whereas someone with the pomposity of Sting or Brian May would have been branded a fascist poodle.
Sadly, the letter was not all that it seemed. Taking a telephone call from “Paul Martin”, Ozzy soon smelled the proverbial rat (and given the amount of self-inflicted nasal abuse he has suffered over the past 30 years, perhaps proverbs are all his hooter is good for). Ozzy was Scooby to his personal assistant’s Shaggy as the intrepid duo set about solving the mystery of the fraudulent Paul Martin. After Shaggy had made a call to the Canadian Mounted Police, he told Ozzy the whole thing was definitely a fake.
You had to feel sympathy for Ozzy as recognition by the establishment seems quite important to him these days. In recent years, he has seemed to place as much weight on the Queen’s Golden Jubilee performance as the monstrous Ozzfest. As he wandered disconsolately off, he muttered under his breath how there was probably “an assassin waiting for me” if he had agreed to meet “Paul Martin”.
Meanwhile, Jack and Kelly at last seem to be growing up. After both undergoing treatment for misuse of drugs, they now seem resigned to the fact that they cannot shock their parents. Kelly came closest when she got herself a small tattoo, which earned the ire of her father, but his anger was strangely hollow given his amount of body art. She has now been reduced to not washing which Sharon irritably dismissed.
The Osbournes still remains unique in its field. No other reality show can combine a genuine icon with manic domestic life – Carmen Electra, for instance, is an irrelevance while her husband Dave Navarro is America’s answer to Francis Rossi. The only one of the reality shows that is currently a patch on the Osbournes is Viva La Bam where Jackass cohort Bam Margera treats his family as if they’re 24-hour contestants on Beadle’s About. But even this is missing the unique ingredient of a bewildered Brummie shuffling about his mansion cleaning up after his dogs.
One gripe: it’s a pity the corner of the screen was occupied a clock counting down to the new series of Dirty Sanchez. Building up the excitement to this show is inexplicable given that it’s a low-rent Jackass and about as appetising a delicacy as having a rusty bicycle fished from your stomach by a quartet of cackling Welsh skateboarders armed only with oral gutting hooks who also suffer from anatomical dyslexia.