I particularly love her sense of quiet desperation...

It was with great reluctance, about a year and a half ago, that I bought a mobile phone. I just don't like being reachable at every hour of every day, and it really is such a drain on your bank balance if you use it more than the very slightest bit. What's more, having never really liked answering machines either (if it's that important they'll call back, for goodness' sakes), I've ended up with one of those too, thanks to the miracles of voicemail.

It is, however, sometimes worth it. This morning, when I switched on my mobile (having left it to charge overnight), I was greeted immediately by the strains of The Who's "Baba O'Riley" as my voicemail called me (what? It makes a great ringtone) to let me know what I'd missed. And what had I missed? Click the play button below to find out.



(If you don't have Flash installed, that won't work - right-click here to download the MP3 instead.)

Sorry about the interference, by the way - my laptop didn't enjoy trying to record that.

Bear in mind that my voicemail message is not just a standard "I'm not here, leave a message." Oh, no. For in a rather poor attempt at comedy, I had recorded a long and rambling message in which I claimed to be my own personal assistant, eager to take down any message that the caller might give me. That means that this confused woman, whoever she is, had plenty of time in which to realise that actually I wasn't who she was expecting, and to hang up.

But no. Instead, I got what might well be one of the strangest ways to start the day, when a woman you don't know starts speaking into your ear, telling you that she's going mad. So, Nicky Bailey, if you happen to be reading this:

1. Sorry, and;
   
2. Give out your number more accurately in future.