neds

Well it seems that the fat c*nt we used to call Jed at school who couldn’t play sport – and who delighted in belting smaller kids because he was always a sadistic narcissist whose only interest was in himself even back then – is back for another easy bite of the mug punter’s cherry, and I’m sure with the algorithms he developed and honed back in his days as an pornographer he’ll probably get a large bite too.

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It’s amazing how an online purveyor of smut and exploitation of vulnerable girls, women, men and boys can suddenly gain a thin veneer of respectability just because he’s got a few bucks and has paid $10 million for a house big enough to fit his fat arse and gut his bloated wombat head in and still have room left to swing a cat.

I hate to disabuse the notion of the self-made success story who grafted his cash the hard way though because despite looking as if he had just been dragged out of the sewer the slob was always a spoiled rich f*ck even as a lad. His old man Gary Shannon (or more correctly his stepdad) who died recently – RIP – owned the Errol Stewarts chain of appliance stores, which were world famous in Queensland and sort of the Harvey Norman of their day, and Jed Clampett inherited a large swathe of the cash.

That was how he staked his career as a pornographer, not any form of hard graft on his behalf because the ugly obese slug never had to do a day’s work for anyone else in his life, and couldn’t have either because everyone who’s not on his payroll hates the arrogant wobbling egomaniac, and 8/10’s of those who work for him do too.

Being liked never was high on Clampett’s priority list though – after all he’s a mathematician and therefore knows that the odds of people warming to him are always remote – and now that he’s served the non-competition period that was written into the contract for the sale of Ladbrokes (formerly bookmaker.com) he’s back to fleece the guileless punters with another under the odds job with lots of free bets as bait online gambling site.

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Expect to be assailed over the next month with spin, fist deposit offers, a slick website, free bets galore and about 1-3% under the odds on everything over the next month, and expect to be cut off if you join and win too. Jed doesn’t like winners, not unless they’re him, and he won’t lay the odds to fair dinkum semi-pro punters either, which is no surprise given that he’s always been a cat. FFS he didn’t even play footy, even though he weighed about as much as average rugby pack all on his own.

But don’t be calling him a bloody renowned bookie, because he’s not a real bookie’s arsehole.  Call him a percentage shaver, a computer whiz, a wanker, a pornographer, a clown, a c*nt and a cruel selfish piece of sh*t. The shoes fit.

Just don’t go calling him a bookmaker.

Call him Jed instead.

He dead set loves it, and don’t you worry about that.

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