FRESH BLOOD IN AN OLD FORMAT.

Byline: DAVID KRONKE TV Critic

'THE OSBOURNES'' may be one of the most brilliantly cynical shows in the history of television, a fin de siecle celebration and/or indictment of a society where wretched decadence wears a neon-hued smiley face. Or perhaps it's just a larky goof poking wicked fun at a dopey rock star's dopier lifestyle.

It's a docu-reality series examining the home life of metal legend Ozzy Osbourne, only played like a mediocre family sitcom. Anyone who saw addled Ozzy prattling on and obliviously spilling milk in ``The Decline of Western Civilization 2'' knows he'll make for an inspired foil for this unlikely gambit: He's genially hapless, speech slurred and punch-drunk from a life of excesses. He wanders his latest palatial mansion, a far aesthetic cry from the bats in his neo-Gothic persona's belfry, with a rifle, and can't figure out his satellite-TV system. Jay Leno, asking Ozzy to sign a CD for a relative, feels the need to explain how to spell ``Rick.''

Then there are Ozzy's kids, Jack and Kelly, sulky, bickering teens who might be mildly resentful that they'll never be as outrageously rebellious as their dad. There's Sharon, Ozzy's wife and business manager, who rules the castle with an iron gauntlet. And don't forget the bewildered but amiably indulgent security guy who compliantly watches Ozzy's ``Tonight Show'' performance with his boss, though it's apparent heavy metal's scarcely his kind of music.

Tonight's premiere finds the family moving into new palatial Beverly Hills digs: Boxes are labeled ``bad things'' and ``dead things.'' A bayonet turns up unexpectedly - only in ``The Osbournes'' could a bayonet turn up unexpectedly - and Pop and Jack share a special moment affixing it to the aforementioned firearm. Sharon waxes on about Jack being ``very, very mellow,'' as we watch him skulking about the back yard in camouflage gear and with a dagger.

Transition music between scenes cheekily sounds as if it's been cribbed from a crummy sitcom, and the show boasts hilariously incongruous imagery: Among Ozzy's trademark tattoos and ghoulish heads, the home is adorned with floral-patterned sofas, sprays of colorful flowers, even a meek Pomeranian.

Make no mistake, though, this is a nonscripted, nonlinear series: The show is rife with plenty of deleted expletives, as family members routinely insult one another, with enough bleeps in tonight's episode to fill a season of ``South Park."

It's tough to say how long ``The Osbournes' '' delightfully demented joke will remain fresh, mercilessly mocking both the bourgeois conventions of genre TV as well as the brazen behavior of self-styled rebels. But it should be fun to watch the show's high-wire act as Ozzy further shocks us amid his lavish suburban comfort.

THE OSBOURNES - Three stars

What: A reality sitcom for metalheads: Ozzy Osbourne at home with wife, kids and no bats

Where: MTV.

When: 10:30 tonight.