Ozzy Osbourne was the Prince of Laughter

Just more than a year ago I was contacted by Aston Villa’s publicity department asking if I would be interested in launching the new Villa Adidas kit. They explained the scenario: Ozzy Osbourne would call me asking whether I’d play Villa Park with him and I would reply: “As long as I play left wing.” Of course, that video went viral and had the biggest views of any football kit launch for that season. That was the power of Ozzy.

Aston Villa was a huge presence to us in Aston. Growing up, Ozzy’s humble house was a few hundred yards away from the stadium, as was my house. I was a Villa fanatic — still am — and went to as many matches as my pocket money would stretch to, while Ozzy would “look after” supporters’ cars for a few pence. So it was quite fitting for Ozzy and Black Sabbath to end the long journey from our beginning in 1968 to our final show back in Aston at Villa Park, on July 5. I didn’t realise then that I would never see Ozzy again after that night.

The rehearsals for that final show started a month before at a studio in the Oxfordshire countryside. Tony Iommi, Bill Ward and I ran through seven songs together. Of course, not having played together for 20 years, it took a couple of days to get rid of the rust.

Then it was time for Ozzy to join us. I knew he wasn’t in good health, but I wasn’t prepared to see how frail he was. He was helped into the rehearsal room by two helpers and a nurse and was using a cane — being Ozzy, the cane was black and studded with gold and precious stones. He didn’t really say much beyond the usual greetings and when he sang, he sat in a chair. We ran through the songs but we could see it was exhausting him after six or seven songs. We had a bit of a chat, but he was really quiet compared with the Ozzy of old. After a couple more weeks we were ready for the show.

To me, Ozzy wasn’t the Prince of Darkness — if anything he was the Prince of Laughter. He’d do anything for a laugh, a born entertainer. I first became aware of him when I’d walk home from all-nighters at a rock club called the Penthouse, in Birmingham. I had long hair down past my shoulders and looked like a hippy. Ozzy would be on the other side of the road on his way from the soul all-nighters in Brum, with his cropped hair and mod suit. Complete opposites of each other. Little did I know then that within a year we would form what would become Black Sabbath and create a whole new form of rock music.

In 1968, the part-time band I was in were looking for a singer. I saw an advert in a music store in Birmingham centre with the words “Ozzy Zig needs a gig”. His address was on the ad and I saw he lived three or four streets away from me, so off I went and knocked on his door, only to be told by his sister that Ozzy wasn’t in. I left my address with her and later that evening, as the Butler family were sitting down to dinner, there was a knock at the door. My brother answered it and said to me, “Hey, there’s something at the door asking for you”. I said, “What do you mean by ‘something’?” He said: “You’ll see.”

It was the cropped-hair mod I’d seen walking home from the all-nighters, except he didn’t have a suit on — he had his dad’s brown work gown on, a chimney brush over his shoulder, a shoe on a dog leash and no shoes on his bare feet. He said, “I’m Ozzy”. After I’d stopped laughing, I said: “OK, you’re in the band.”

• Ozzy Osbourne obituary: hell-raising frontman of Black Sabbath

So began the most incredible journey of our lives. Tony Iommi lived two streets from my house, so we went there to see if he knew any drummers. He said, “Yes, Bill Ward, and he just happens to be here if you want to talk to him”. Bill heard what we had to say and he agreed to join us as long as Tony came along. And so Earth — later changed to Black Sabbath — was born.

Black Sabbath crossing a street in London.

Sabbath in 1975, left to right: Bill Ward, Tony Iommi, Ozzy Osbourne and Geezer Butler

ROGER MORTON/CLEOPATRA RECORDS/GETTY IMAGES

Our first gig ended up in a massive brawl. Being from Aston, you had to know how to defend yourself, and certainly Ozzy and Tony in particular were no strangers to fighting. We became inseparable brothers in arms, always looking out for each other. People always thought Ozzy was a feral wild man, but he had a heart of pure gold. Most of his infamous antics — the bat saga, biting the head off a dove, pissing on the Alamo, snorting lines of ants, and the rest — came in his solo years, away from the restraints of the Sabbath crew. But if you were a friend in need, Ozzy was always there for you. When my son was born with a heart defect, Ozzy called me every day to see how I was coping, even though we hadn’t spoken for a year.

When we did the Aston Villa Adidas promo, I hadn’t seen or spoken to Ozzy since Black Sabbath’s The End tour in 2017. But there was always an invisible link between Ozzy, Tony, Bill and me. We had gone through the best of times and the worst of times; the bond was unbreakable.

Ozzy Osbourne and Geezer Butler of Black Sabbath wading in a river.

Osbourne and Butler in the River Wye, 1977

ALAMY

And so to the final concert. The strangest part of that show was the end. Normally, we would all hug each other and take a bow to the audience. But Ozzy was on his throne and we hadn’t thought that out. What do we do? Tony shook his hand, I presented him with a cake, but it was such a strange feeling to end our story like that. I wish I’d had more time backstage with Ozzy, but wishes are redundant now. As Ozzy used to say: “Wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which comes first.”

Collage of Ozzy Osbourne's farewell cake and him sitting on a throne.

Nobody knew he’d be gone from us little more than two weeks after the final show. But I am so grateful we got to play one last time together in front of his beloved fans. The love from the fans and all the bands, musicians, singers and solo artists that night was incredible. Everyone had come to pay homage to the Prince. I am so privileged to have spent most of my life with him. Of course there are millions of things I will think of that I should have written, but how can I sum up 57 incredible years of friendship in a few paragraphs? God bless, Oz, it has been one hell of a ride! Love you!

Geezer Butler has donated his fee for this article to Birmingham Children’s Hospital

Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne by their Beverly Hills pool.