Football Players' Answering Machines: Volume II

David JacobsCorrespondent IDecember 25, 2009

LONDON, ENGLAND - SEPTEMBER 26:  Robbie Keane of Tottenham Hotspur celebrates his fourth goal during the Barclays Premier League match between Tottenham Hotspur and Burnley at White Hart Lane on September 26, 2009 in London, England.  (Photo by Ian Walton/Getty Images)
Ian Walton/Getty Images

This is another compilation of my made-up answerphone messages of various figures in Premiership football. Hope you like them. I think I've captured them in a nutshell quite well. If this doesn't get me 7,000 likes, a Nobel prize for journalism, and a girlfriend, nothing will!


Peter Crouch:

Hi, you've reached ironically-named Peter Crouch. I can't get to the phone right now as I need to allow myself 20 minutes to crouch down and reach it.

Also, the oxygen levels can get really thin up here. Therefore, I will be making myself FULLY robotic, eliminating the need for oxygen unlike mere mortals and shortals such as yourself.

Please leave your message for me and I'll get down to you, ASAP.



Darren Bent:

Heya, you've reached Bent(-ley in disguise). Not here right now, most probably because I can't quite make the target phone and my ear meet. Haaa, that’s mega jokes! That is sooooo goin’ on ma Twitter page, brap brap!!



Mark Hughes:

Good Afternoon/Salaam, you have reached Sparky’s office, which is now Roberto Mancini’s office, but he hasn’t learnt enough English to change the answerphone message.

Oh, and if this is Mancini ringing me, caaan yooou speeeak yet??

*sings Coronation Street theme tune*.

I now got a job at IKEA because I’ve finally been noted for my talent of forging many draws.


For people across the pond who are wondering what that message meant—Coronation Street is a famous British soap opera which Mancini has reportedly been watching in order to learn the English language.

Robbie Keane:

*Drunken Irish accent*

Oh helloo ma derr boy. I’m at a Chrustmas pahrty with my squadmates doing the usual Arrish thing known as "drinking until yar liver turns to pate."

Sorry Harry, we really did originally go to play golf, but got bored and King’s crutch got stuck in a hole, so we had to leave it and didn’t want to take anymore risks. Then, considering he was legless, we thought we’d all follow suit.

To make matters worse, I kept changing clubs every five minutes, which just made me play worse. A vurry Murry Chrustmas. Say hi to Tony Mowbray too…