In a change to what I had planned to write today, I thought that I’d write about the recently departed Ozzy Osbourne – so he is a tribute to Ozzy Osbourne – and others who are louder than life, but gentler than expected

I have heard that Ozzy Osbourne died yesterday. I didn’t follow his music – I’ve never headbanged in my life, unless you count sneezing – but I always had a good impression of him. And, aside from the noise, I think he’d have made an excellent neighbour.

He always struck me as one of those people who lived loudly but loved deeply, if not always gently (I know that things did get rough and scary for his family at times). I sense that he was a good human. He enjoyed life. He was kind to animals. He seemed, in the most unexpected way, to have a soft heart under the studs and snarls.

And it’s not just him. Time and again I’ve noticed that the supposed “monsters” – the ones dressed in black, shouting about death and demons – are often the kindest people in the room. Meanwhile, the ones clutching their pearls and mouthing pieties are the ones quietly making others feel small, unsafe, or unwelcome.

The righteous people are the ones who really scare me.

How did we get so upside-down? Somewhere along the way, we learned to equate softness with silence, and goodness with neat haircuts and polite voices. But I’ve met gentle souls who swear like sailors, and righteous bullies who speak in Bible verses. Appearances deceive.

There’s something about people who’ve embraced the role of outsider – the goths, the rockers, the queer kids, the freaks – that makes them more likely to understand pain, and to treat others with empathy. Maybe it’s because they’ve had to carve out space in a world that wants them small. Maybe it’s because they’ve been on the receiving end of cruelty in the name of “decency.”

Ozzy, to me, was one of those people. More than a meme, more than a bat, more than the mumbling chaos of reality TV. He made space for weirdness. He turned suffering into art. He scared the establishment – and made the misfits feel less alone.

As Billy Joel once said (and I’m not above quoting Billy Joel), “I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints — the sinners are much more fun.” And as someone else said (I don’t know who, I’m not going to look it up now), “You can’t judge the inside by the album cover.”

So rest well, Ozzy. You were loud. You were kind. You were a monster in eyeliner – and I think you’d have made a truly lovely neighbour.