BBC Confirms Air Date for Emotional Ozzy Osbourne Documentary “Coming Home”

The BBC has announced the air date for a deeply moving documentary that will give fans one final, intimate look at the life of one of rock’s greatest icons. Ozzy Osbourne: Coming Home, a one-hour film produced by Expectation for BBC One and iPlayer, will air on Sunday, August 18 at 9pm.

A Final Chapter in the Prince of Darkness’s Story

Filmed over the course of three years, the documentary captures the extraordinary ups and downs of Ozzy’s later years as he and his wife Sharon pursued their dream of moving back to the UK. What began as a planned reality series, Home to Roost, evolved into an emotional documentary after Ozzy’s health began to deteriorate. The result is a raw, inspirational portrait of resilience, love, and legacy.

The film offers unprecedented access to the entire Osbourne family — Sharon, Jack, and Kelly — as they navigate life’s most difficult challenges together. It promises laughter, reflection, heartbreak, and the unshakable family bond that made the Osbournes one of the most recognizable families in music and television.

Ozzy’s Final Bow

Fans will see Ozzy’s determination to fight against his declining health in an attempt to perform again. That determination paid off when he took to the stage at Villa Park, giving what would be his final performance — a powerful and emotional moment that left fans in awe just weeks before his passing.

Tragically, Ozzy Osbourne — Black Sabbath’s legendary frontman, six-time father, and global icon — passed away earlier this year. His death certificate listed the cause as an acute myocardial infarction and out-of-hospital cardiac arrest. But perhaps most poignantly, the certificate described his occupation as: “songwriter, performer and rock legend.”

A Family’s Farewell, A Fan’s Tribute

Clare Sillery, BBC Head of Commissioning, Documentaries, reflected on the importance of the film: “We are honoured to have had the opportunity to film with Ozzy and his family. The film captures an intimate glimpse into their journey as they prepare to return to the UK. It features family moments, humour, reflection, and shows the enduring spirit that made Ozzy a global icon. We hope it brings comfort and joy to Ozzy’s fans and viewers as they remember and celebrate his extraordinary life.”

For longtime fans, the documentary will feel like both a farewell and a celebration. It promises to be a reminder not only of Ozzy’s wild, defiant career — from his days with Black Sabbath to his unforgettable solo success — but also of his humanity, humour, and deep love for his family.

A Legacy That Lives On

Since their first appearance on television in The Osbournes back in 2002, Ozzy and his family have shared their lives with the world, redefining what it meant to be a rock star offstage. Coming Home closes that circle, giving fans one final chance to walk with the Osbournes through joy, sorrow, and the enduring power of love.

For those who admired him for decades, this documentary isn’t just television — it’s a chance to say goodbye to a man who gave his life to music, rebellion, and unforgettable performances. Ozzy Osbourne may be gone, but his spirit, his songs, and his legacy will continue to echo forever.

Watch Ozzy’s Emotional Final Concert

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HE WAS 20 MONTHS OLD WHEN A FIGHTER JET WENT DOWN OVER OKINAWA AND TOOK HIS FATHER WITH IT. HE WAS 22 WHEN HE WATCHED FOUR CLASSMATES GET SHOT ON THE LAWN AT KENT STATE. HE WAS 26 WHEN HIS THREE-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER DIED IN A CAR CRASH ON THE WAY TO NURSERY SCHOOL. AND HE WAS 47 WHEN HE FINALLY ADMITTED THE BOTTLE WAS GOING TO KILL HIM TOO — IF HE DIDN’T LET A BEATLE PULL HIM OUT FIRST. He wasn’t supposed to make it. He was Joseph Fidler Walsh, born in Wichita, Kansas in 1947. The son of an Air Force flight instructor who taught young pilots how to fly America’s first operational jet — the Lockheed F-80 Shooting Star. The boy whose father climbed into a cockpit one summer day in 1949, took off over Okinawa, and never came home. The toddler whose mother folded the flag and packed up the house because she had to. He grew up never knowing the man whose middle name he carried like a wound. By 5, he was being adopted by a stepfather and given a new last name. By 12, the family had moved to New York City. By high school, to Montclair, New Jersey, where he played oboe because the football coach said he was too small for tight end. By the time he got to Kent State, he’d attended schools in three different states and never stayed long enough to belong anywhere. Then came May 4, 1970. He was sitting on the lawn at Kent State when the Ohio National Guard opened fire on student protesters. Four kids his age died on the grass that day. He picked up a guitar and never put it back down. A power trio called the James Gang. A song called “Funk #49.” A guitar so loud Pete Townshend turned around. By 1971, Jimmy Page personally bought his ’59 Les Paul — the guitar that became known to the world as Page’s “Number One.” By 1973, he’d moved to Colorado, formed a band called Barnstorm, and written “Rocky Mountain Way” on a riding lawn mower because the riff wouldn’t leave him alone. Then came April 1, 1974. His three-year-old daughter Emma Kristen was riding to nursery school in Boulder when another vehicle struck the car. She didn’t survive. He wrote “Song for Emma” and placed a drinking fountain in the park where she used to play, with a small plaque nobody but the locals would ever notice. He named the album that came after her death “So What” — because nothing else mattered anymore. His marriage didn’t survive it. He started drinking before sunrise. He started using anything that would make the morning quieter. Then came 1975. The Eagles needed a new guitarist. The first album he made with them was called “Hotel California.” The solo he traded with Don Felder on the title track would later be voted the greatest guitar solo ever recorded. Twenty-six million copies sold in the U.S. alone. A Grammy. A Rock & Roll Hall of Fame seat waiting for him. And underneath all of it — every platinum record, every stadium — a man drinking himself slowly into the grave. By the late eighties, he couldn’t remember tours. By the early nineties, he couldn’t remember days. He checked into rehab. He checked back out. He checked in again. He went into rehab for the final time in 1995. He had to put his guitar down — possibly for good — in order to put his life back together. He didn’t think he’d ever play again. Addictionrecoveryebulletin The phone stopped ringing. The Eagles toured without him in everything but body. He sat in a house full of platinum records and couldn’t remember writing most of the songs on the walls. And then a Beatle showed up. Ringo Starr — nine years older, several years sober, and married to a woman whose sister Joe would eventually marry himself — sat down with him and stayed sat. Not as a rock star. As another drunk who’d put the bottle down and lived. Starr brought him back to music and became a sober buddy. Answer Addiction Joe Walsh made a vow to himself in front of an instrument he wasn’t sure he could still play. If I never write another song, that has to be okay. Sobriety comes first. He looked the bottle dead in the eye and said: “No.” One day. Then the next. Then a thousand more. “People tell me I play better now sober than I did before. But the only thing that matters to me now is that I can say I haven’t had a drink today.” Rolling Stone He recorded “Analog Man” in 2012 — his first album as a sober musician in his entire adult life. He started a charity called VetsAid for the children of fallen service members, because he had been one of those children. He told audiences across America: “They told me I was finished. I’m just getting started.” Some men chase the spotlight until it kills them. The ones who matter learn to set the bottle down before the spotlight does. What he said the night they handed him the highest humanitarian award in the recovery community — with his wife Marjorie standing behind him wiping tears, and his brother-in-law Ringo presenting the trophy — tells you everything about who he really was. He didn’t talk about the Grammys. He didn’t talk about Hotel California. He talked about the men an