Ozzy Osborne’s Diary Of A Mad Man

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Sunday May 2
It’s a new week and 1967 is shaping up to be a brilliant year. I’m hoping this will be a huge week for me at the firm. It’s time to show these blokes that I’m hungry, that I’m willing to go further than anybody else in the advertising community.

I took the new girl, Sharon, out last night. I suspect her family has a bit of scratch; the bird seems a little spoiled. She’s bloody gorgeous but is still a little cool towards me so far. I do fancy her quite a bit though. The thrill of the hunt!

Monday May 3
We’re still struggling with the Hamleys’ account. The team, led by Iommi, is leaning towards “The finest toys in the world” slogan with just as pedestrian of a campaign. I absolutely hate it, doesn’t feel right. Toys are exciting and dangerous and we need to incorporate that edge into our advertising. I prefer “Hamleys’ Hystericals” or “Hamleys’ toys: the anti red wagon” or even “The age of Apollyon is upon us, indulge yourself with some toys.” I fear a boardroom showdown if we can’t come to some kind of a consensus.

I’m sick of the way that Iommi, Ward and Butler stick together. They think they’re so “with it” just because they have that silly little band. It’s a bloody herd mentality. I need to get them to accept my individuality.

Tuesday May 4
Ran into a school mate at lunch today. Good old David Wallace. He’s now a partner with Saatchi and Saatchi and was practically begging me to interview for creative director over there. Seems they lost the last one to a bad bit of tail. Bloody gonorrhea! Wound up going nutters. I’m sure that they wouldn’t mind my accounts coming along for the ride, if I jumped ship.

I know one thing; if Iommi keeps being such a nob to me in front of the office, I’ll make that call. It’s nice to have options. Oh Lord of Darkness I hate him sometimes.

I finished my second book of poetry, War Pigs: A Study of Human Nature today. Not like anybody will read it, but it was a rewarding project.

Wednesday May 5
I finished reading Do What Thou Wilt during the tube ride this morning. Aleister Crowley was an interesting bloke. Curious to learn more about him. I started playing around with a poem about his life. I have to admit that since I moved to London, I’m beginning to see the dark side of human nature. It seems to me that we’re all just one bad LSD trip away from utter chaos and savagery.

On the plus side I landed the Tesco account! This should help speed up my request for an increased expense account. Being able to wine and dine potential clients at the London Savoy should help my sales figures considerably.

Thursday May 6
I took Sharon to the pub last night to watch my colleagues make fools of themselves on jam night. I hate to admit it but they weren’t half bad. Sharon seemed to dig the bad boy musician act they put on. Her eyes went all gaga. I have to find a way to get her to look at me like that. (Maybe if I bought her a fancy little dog?) We had a bit of a smoke, and while it seemed to loosen Sharon up, it just made me paranoid. I’ll stick to the booze from now on — that doesn’t seem to do me any harm.

I spent this afternoon roaming Hamleys and allowing my mind to absorb the vibe. Bought a few gag gifts for laughs. On the tube ride back I saw a tramp stab a drunk with a broken tennis racket. Gave me an idea for a poem: “Crazy Train.” Something metaphorical about going off the rails of life.

Big pitch meeting tomorrow with the Hamleys’ people. The bad news is that they’re sending Brighton and Engle, a notoriously tough duo. The worse news is that we still can’t find any common ground on this thing. Might be a rough one.

Friday May 7
I killed it today! Absolutely killed it! Picture the scene; Iommi, and his pet sycophant, Ward, are trying to sell their boring, vanilla slogan to Brighton, who is not buying, when, out of nowhere, I chew a Hamleys’ blood capsule, pull a plastic but realistic looking vampire bat out of my suit pocket and proceed to bite off its head then spit the head and a healthy pool of blood onto the polished, mahogany boardroom table. I even began gagging to really sell it. Blew their doors off. The Hamleys’ boys, Iommi, Ward, our art people, the stenographer, everyone, was simply aghast. You could’ve heard a pin drop. As they were struggling to regain their composure, I adeptly sprang into a quick spiel about how “THIS was MY Hamleys.” Three seconds later and Brighton and Engle were laughing maniacally over it. They kindly but firmly shot Iommi down and asked what Ozzy had in mind. I easily sold them on Hamleys’ Hystericals.

There is a new star exploding into supernova status in the advertising stratosphere and its name is Osborne!

Saturday May 8
Iommi invited Sharon and me out for a drink last night and we all got along famously. It was quite an eventful night. I ended up drunkenly reading/singing my poetry and they were both impressed with the content and floored (Sharon’s word!) by my voice as well. Who knew I could sing? He actually wants me to go with him to Birmingham to play a paid gig next weekend.

Sharon was appropriately turned on and spent the night.

Now I’m a mad man, a poet, a musician and a lover. I am iron man!

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