Beyond their working class origins, their hatred for the bourgeoisie, and their ambiguous identities, the one quality that the Morrissey and Jimmy Osborne share most closely, and most abominably, is their delight in cruelty. The smile that accompanies the bloodletting: the flash in Jimmy's eyes that appears when he realizes he's hurt Alison or Cliff; the flush that Morrissey allows himself to enjoy just before he skewers a journalist. Jimmy's own sadism is laid bare in Look Back in Anger, but the most vivid examples of Morrissey's darkness are closely guarded secrets, covered by his victims' embarrassment and pain.
Geoff Travis, founder of the Rough Trade record label and target of The Smiths' song "Frankly Mr Shankly" ("you are a flatulent pain in the arse"), has always dismissed his own shame at being so publicly humiliated by the singer. "Occasionally, it gave me a bit of disquiet," he explains. "I laughed as well-it was a mixture. I suppose it made me a little sad. If I hadn't known Morrissey as well as I did during that period, it might have really upset me." His explanation is a tidy bit of self-denial, dismissing the attack as a joke. By insisting that that his own closeness with Morrissey excused the viciousness, Travis sneaks in a self-congratulatory note as well, declaring an understanding of the song that outsiders couldn't share. According to Smiths' bassist Andy Rourke, however, "he went mad about it."
At the end of "Frankly Mr Shankly", Morrissey recalls an instance when Travis wrote him a poem, prompting one of the most savage lines in the song. "Oh I didn't realize that you wrote poetry," Morrissey begins, with a note of curiosity, almost sounding impressed. Then he drops the blade: "I didn't realize you wrote such bloody awful poetry."
This sort of misdirection preceding an attack is one of Jimmy's most savage weapons. In the second half of Look Back In Anger, he begins an affair with Alison's friend Helena, who falls completely for Jimmy's violent charm. During his Sunday morning ritual of tearing through the newspapers and insulting everyone's intelligence, Jimmy casually asks Helena if she's going to church that day. "No. I don't think so. Unless you want to," she replies. Assured that her guard is down, Jimmy strikes: "Do I detect a growing, satanic glint in her eyes lately... Do you feel very sinful my dear? Well? Do you? Do you feel sin crawling out of your ears... are you wondering whether I'm joking or not?" The stage direction reinforces her discomposure during this assault: "She can hardly believe that this is an attack, and she can only look at him, uncertain of herself." In just these few sentences, Helena is shattered, made helpless and confused. The direction continues: "She is shaken by the sudden coldness in his eyes, but before she has time to fully realize how hurt she is, he is smiling at her."
In both situations, the lesson is that no one is safe, and no kindness should be trusted. It's the sort of awful bind that traps victims of abuse, and it guarantees that both Morrissey and Jimmy remain in control. This sort of destabilization is especially treacherous because it requires a constant escalation of threat to maintain its power. In 1986, with the usual combination of cruelty and glee that accompanied such evil, Morrissey proved how unsafe everyone was. Citing an extended heroin addiction that was impeding the bass player's performance, Morrissey decided that Andy Rourke would be expelled from The Smiths. "Morrissey left a little postcard on the windscreen of my car," Rourke explained, "like a parking ticket. It said, 'Andy-you have left The Smiths. Goodbye and good luck, Morrissey.'"