Answer The Phone: Conte Fumes At Uncontactable Abramovich

We’ve all got that one mate, haven’t we? The one you have to call about six times before they pick up. They’re bloody annoying. But chances are the person you’ve got in mind isn’t worth £7.2 billion. Well, we’ll assume they aren’t anyway. You’re not Antonio Conte. We think.

Regardless, his incommunicado buddy is worth that much money. And happens to own the club he manages as well as the holding Italian gaffer by the you-know-whats.

So Conte is in a pickle. Unlike you and I, he can’t just vent his frustration in a profanity-fueled text and leave it at that. No, this is Roman Abramovich he’s dealing with, there are rules.

So just how does the Blues’ boss get through to the Russian billionaire? With difficulty, as we at CLICKON found out.

In true Andy Coulson style, we thought we’d have a little listen to the 48-year-old’s blower and find out more. Here’s what happens behind the scenes at Stamford Bridge.

*Phone rings*

“Pick up Roman, you big, rich, son of a -“

*The ringing stops*

“Hello, Antonio?”

“Oh, Susan, it’s you, hi. I need to speak to Roman, could you patch me through?”

“I’m sorry, Ant, he’s busy at the moment. Can I just take down a message for you?”

“No, I need to speak with him.”

“I’ll just take a message for you.”

“Fine. Just tell him that last night was his fault and that I need more than a team valued at £1,443,000,000 to work with. It’s just not enough I’m afraid.”

“Lovely, let me just get a pen to write that down.”

“Christ, Susan, you could have told me to wait.”

“Well I’ve got one now, so can you just say that again?”

“Look, I really need to talk to him directly, Susan, it’s about something personal. I need to get it off my chest.”

“Is it about your wig? You can send him an email and he’ll get back to you as soon as possible if you’d rather.”

“I’m not doing that. And it’s not a wig, shut up.”

“That’s okay, we’ve got a form you can fill out online; just leave your name, number and email address.”

“I’m not doing that either.”

“How about fax? We have a fax machine.”

“I’ll give that a shot.”

“Shame, I was rather hoping you wouldn’t say that. It’s actually something we just tell people we have and no one ever questions it.”

“For God’s sake, just put me through to him.”

“But he’s busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Well his schedule says he’s currently looking smug and moody sitting really high up in the stadium. After that, he’s got a meeting with the people who pull the strings at the club.”

“No he doesn’t, I’d be there if he did.”

“Haha, Christ no. You’re gonna be out of here before you know it. Oh! He’s got a minute free now, hold up.”

“Thank you, you can put me through now.”

“Of course I can, sir, sorry about the wait. If there’s anything I can do for you in future, just call. I’m Susan and if you wouldn’t mind staying on the line for just a few minutes after this call ends, we’d be so grateful if you could answer a short survey about customer satisfaction for us. Have a nice day.”

*A crackly rendition of some Mozart piece plays*

*The phone rings*

“Finally, what’s a man got to go through to talk to his boss?”

*Phone keeps ringing*

*The ringing stops*

“Welcome to the O2 messaging service. The oligarch you are calling is unable to take your call. Please leave your message after the tone.”

“Ffs.”

*Silence*

*Beep*

“Hi, Roman, this is Antonio. Yeah, so just calling to have a chat really. If you could, err, call me back then that would be great. So, um, yeah, thanks. Oh, actually, I might as well just mention it now whilst I’m here. Nothing serious and maybe I’m just being silly old me, haha, but we’re not going to win this league and our fans are deluded if they think we are. Yeah, we’re not the club we were under Jose and you’ve got to realise that. For the record, David Luiz is a complete tool and you’re not much better. But, yeah, just call me back when you can. Thanks, bye, bye. Bye, bye, byebyebye.”

We were a bit worried for Conte after hearing that bombshell. Not that he was lying, but everyone knows how trigger happy Abramovich is when it comes to giving out the sack.

Fortunately for the Italian manager, however, no one under the age of 70 listens to voicemails. So we’re sure he’s safe for now.

Though having said that, he’s facing Manchester United in four days. Perhaps his line is about to die.