Watching scheming soap superbitch Kim Tate was like having a secret lifelong fantasy suddenly spring to life right before my very eyes, a recurring and very naughty daydream that had plagued my heated imagination ever since my early teenage years.
And suddenly there she was large as life, strutting about on Emmerdale in her jodhpurs and riding boots, purring seductively one minute and venomously curling her lip the next.
A despicably cold-hearted, cruel woman who was enjoyed nothing more than mischievously toying with her victims before unceremoniously trampling them underfoot without so much as a second thought.
My God, how i adored her!
Playing such a calculating vixen as Kim Tate must have been enormous fun for gorgeous actress Claire King but not half as pleasurable as it was to witness her in action on-screen, twisting various lovers around her little finger and plotting the most dastardly sinfulness conceiveable.
I never once felt an ounce of sympathy or pity for any of the men who crossed her path because they were the unbelievably lucky ones in my eyes: knowing both the sensation of her most precious, teasing caress and also the spiteful rake of her razor-sharp, cat-like claws.
© Sean Barrett - May 2011