What would your father do if you were kidnapped by Parisian sex traffickers?

For a military man I'm not sure he would do much, it seems his years at military boarding were only there to make sure that emotional attachments are not an issue, I'm sure he would say oh "well, we've still got the other one" pragmatic as always!

Now if his mistress 'close friend' was kidnapped I'm sure he'd be very proactive, maybe he might get together with her husband and start a search party.

Mum would be hysterical and insist every man and his dog do something.

"Has she even thought about work? They're not going to to take too kindly to this".....15 pages on and, for me, this is my absolute crack up line!

My dad, to be perfectly honest, would probably leave them to it. "She'll get herself out of it. Give it a day or two. They'll pay us to take her back."

My mother would complain about how it's fallen too close to someone's birthday, and for god's sake, their present/card is going to be late, and "Has she even thought about work? They're not going to take too kindly to this."

Now, my two brothers and my younger brother's wife would have a Shaun of the Dead style attack plan. Probably would get me killed in the process, but in the event that they got me out alive, my sister in law would waste no time asking if I could watch the kids for her. None at all.

Not much considering neither of my parents could care less about me, nor even speak to me ha!

The rest of my family though. .. they're all very very VERY feisty females apart from my grandfather's, and I feel very sorry for anyone who gets on the wrong side of them! They'd have me back in no time and the kidnappers wouldnt be kidnapping ever again lol
I'd do the same for any of them :)

My Dad speaks very little English and doesn't really pay attention when people talk, so I'm guessing that by the time I explained that I wasn't having an issue with sexy traffic, it would probably be too late.

I'd love to see this thread in classics.

My Dad was in the forces for over a decade. Often away for weeks at a time and we were never told where. We'd get up in the morning and he'd have left in the night. Two of his closest forces mates were allowed to carry a concelead weapon and travelled a lot. Dad always implied he wasn't like them. But who knows? I suspect he could have made a few calls to some useful contacts and had me home by lunch.

DH makes Jack Reacher look like a bit of a girl. Built like a brick shit house and on his Lau Ga Kung Fu university team. He's a complete teddy bear if he likes you. But there's something steely about him.

I've seen him step him and rescue a teenage lad getting a kicking outside a night club. He also intervened when we saw a bloke slap his girlfriend during a domestic. The bloke was brave against his 9 stone girlfriend but he shit himself when DH calmly pinned him to the floor and explained to him 'why you don't hit women.'

Any potential kidnappers would be loons to even so much as look at DD in a funny way. If they dared to actually kidnap her DH would firstly call his best mate who is something quite high up in Whitehall to discover where she was being held. But he wouldn't want any further support. He'd want to make sure they all suffered a lot before they died.

I expect most of Paris inside the Perifique would be raised to the ground.

Also, wow, Dione! That's amazing!

My dad would have done nothing.

My dad didn't notice when I moved out at 16. It wasn't a big house - it was small enough that my parents slept in the living room.

If I had been rescued by someone else then he might have stepped in to be the big man after all the work had already been done.

My dad would've got out his arsenal of shotguns (he shot clay pigeons in competition) and blasted the actual f**k out of them. I just know it.

I miss my dad. He died in 2009. Of natural causes I might add, as opposed to some terrible shooting accident...

I think my Dad would be pretty good at this. For a start he literally knows everyone and having spent much of the 80's entertaining clients in strip joints I don't think it would take long to locate me. He's shithot at complaining (not in a moan / grumpy sense but just awesome at it) and would end up successfully bamboozling or blackmailing kidnappers with some insider info, negotiate compensation for travel expenses, a bottle of wine and a formal apology. On the way home he'll comfort me by telling me 'shit happens', be generally amazed it wasn't my sister who got herself into a scrape and will give the world's briefest speech to the media. However at the next do with his mates he'll re-enact said episode, spicing it up with things that probably didn't happen and have everyone in stitches laughing.

My dad is awesome!

Dad has alzheimers so i dont think he would even notice id gone

My (dead) Dad would've been all too excited about the prospect of tying in a rescue party with some sort of cross channel camping jaunt for the scouts and would've got them to try to track me down using a penknife, some rope and basic tracking skills. Which would be fine if the sex traffickers had secreted me in the forest but not so much in urban Paris. The scouts would've got lots of badge work done and practised how to tie a round turn and 2 half hitches so he wouldn't be too sad if he didn't find me.
The he would've gone home to my mother who would be hysterical saying it was all my fault and how I made her life a misery.

My dad would out-psycho Liam any day. No-one touches his daughters it took him about 8 years to like DH...

Agent, I know. My mum was shouting "don't you dare give them anything" as they were on the phone to my dad. If my brother (who was a few months old) had been in bed, rather than his crib in the living room, I think my mum would have had a real go, instead of telling them that they were making a big mistake and should leave while they still could.

It was a bit mad, but I wasn't scared (I was 11 at the time). I knew that scary as the terrorists were trying to be, my mum and dad were the Scariest People In The World.

When it was over, my mum told me not to say anything to my sisters (fast asleep in bed) and not to mention it in school the next day.

Oh and we weren't alone. Mums best friend and an elderly neighbour were there too.

My father probably wouldn't understand the phone call as he is deaf but Does Not Need A Hearing Aid Oh No. Though if it did get through to him, he would pride himself on his fluent and excellent French in which he conversed with them.

If they got the message through he would probably panic and burst into tears about how terrible this was. Then he'd tell my mother who would somehow make it All About Her.

Christ Dione, that's some story!!

I'm just back from Paris, and watched Taken last week First off, I'd be like 'there is NO French guy called Peter. Obv a sex trafficker.'

My Dad would leave it to my mum, who is fierce as fuck. She would find them and she WOULD kill them. Hopefully my dad would get a couple of days in Paris, though, go visit the Maison Victor Hugo or something.

My dad would be bad ass. I remember when I was young and my family were taken hostage by a terrorist group, who called my dad and demanded that he bring the night's takings home. Idiots!

He told them that he was sending someone round immediately and if they were still in his house, they would die. He also said that if they had hurt any of us, he would find them and their families and they would pay!

They ran.

My dad would not find out, because my mum would follow her usual policy of not telling him anything, then blaming him for not knowing. My mum would refuse to discuss it with anyone, and make small talk about work. I would eventually escape, make my way home and be told I need a hair cut.

DF would contact the traffickers and talk to them, at length, about how they felt about themselves, about their childhoods and what needit met for them to BE ttaffickers until a: they gave me back just to make it stop or b: renounced their life of crime and became fulfilled and useful members of society.
in fairness, it would be a pretty niche market that trafficked me in the first place..

Not sure mine would notice, tbh.

My dad would call the police. Maybe make some carefully scripted statement on the TV & then wait & hope the police could retrieve me. I don't much fancy my chances.

DH, OTOH, would... call the police, ask either my dad or his to make a statement & then drive himself mad with worry. If I were ever rescued I'd probably spend the next few years driving DH to see a psychiatrist for his PTSD.

FIL would pay the kidnappers off. I hope!

If DH, DDad or DFIL were kidnapped, I'd scratch the kidnappers eyes out & deliver them to the police station. I'm feisty, me. Someone's got to be!

*every

My Dad would attempt to turn on his hudl in order to do some googling. He would struggle to find the on switch and after 20 minutes of effing and blinding about modern technology, he would try and ring me and ask how to get on That There Internet again. Having failed to speak to me, he'd leave the phone connected for 20 minutes while my answerphone recorded him having a coffee and swearing about modern technology. He would then retrieve the phone from the sofa and wonder why it was blinking and said 'in call' on it. He might shout up the stairs and ask what 'in call' is short for at which point my mother would sigh and turn off the hoover.

My Dad would then take the executive decision to ring my brother and ask him about how to get onto That There Internet. A half an hour circular conversation later and my brother's blood pressure in serious trouble, my Dad would hang up and make another coffee. Finally, my Mum would appear, clutching a duster and muttering. She would take over the Turning On of the Interweb and within 17 minutes would have successfully connected to Amazon Kindle, sent three blank emails and downloaded some thrash metal from Spotify.

They would probably then go for lunch. A nice one. To get over the trials of the morning.

After a brief trip to he supermarket to stock up on carrots, my Mum would start one of those 'you know Bob who was married to Sheila with the gammy leg and the dog that humped lamposts' conversations and finally segue onto 'you KNOW who I mean, friends with the postman's son, went to school with Grantaire' at which point my Dad would mention to my Mum that somebody phoned earlier and it sounded like a sales call and they said something about traffic and Paris. My Mum would berate him for not hanging up sooner.

After a nice dinner of cod in parsley sauce and some new potatoes, that nice new man who has moved in next door and is some sort of police officer apparently, gets home from work. So they ask him to show them how to get on the Interwebs and he sighs pleasantly and humours them. It transpires they have open 37 separate tabs and have a lengthy argument about how to close them. A new email flashes up entitled 'we have Grantaire' and they proceed to bicker about how to actually open the email. In a bold move my Mum would hope for the best and click on the picture of bin. The email disappears so they decide to switch off the hudl and give up. They can't find the off switch so they just put a tea towel over it and hope for the best.

As they settle down to sleep, Dad would grumble that I never did ring him back.

In short, I would be fucked.

In ever sense of the word.