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But next week...
As he was walking his dog one weekday afternoon, Fred, the bookie the punters loved to hate, espied a young lad upon the local links. Fred stopped for a moment to watch him tee off and stayed for longer when he saw that the boy had talent.
Indeed he had holed his tee shot.
He was about to call out his congratulations when the lad teed up again and once more holed in one.
Now Fred, never one to let an opportunity pass, walked up to the youngster, congratulated him and asked:
"How old are you, lad?"
"Eleven, sir," the young person replied.
"Anyone else here seen you play?" Fred enquired.
Having received the assurance that no one had, Fred proposed a match the very next day with the club champion lined up against the young tyro.
The odds were handsome - 10 to 1 against the new young player.
The lad, however, took 11 at the first hole and went on around the course in much the same way. Of course he lost badly.
Fred was furious.
"You've made me look a right fool my lad. What's the idea of pretending you can't play?"
"Listen, dope," the youngster whispered, "next week you'll get 100 to 1."
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