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

[MitzyLeFrouf]

I'm watching Liam Neeson in Taken as he kicks, wallops and murders his way across Paris in pursuit of his abducted daughter? It's made me wonder what my father would do if such a situation arose.

He's an ex-accountant with a dodgy hip so I'm not sure he'd follow the Neeson method of daughter retrieval. He'd be more likely to start the rescue by putting the kettle on, having a cup of tea and checking the weather forecast in Paris. Then he'd have to phone the 67 relatives to inform them of my perilous situation. By the time he got off the phone to my Auntie Mary my virtue would be long lost.

What would your dear old dad do?

Mine would get my mum to book flights to France.

Check fb for updates and pictures of WWII fighter planes.

Have a butty.

Go back upstairs to have a bath

Get distracted by fb.

Have his bath

Lie on the bed to dry off (he IS NOT sleeping, he's air drying)

Get up and dressed (after mum has yelled up the stairs for half an hour for him to wake up)

Check fb

Saunter downstairs to mum who'd be stood in the hall, keys in hand, bags packed, tickets purchased.

Put shoes on.

Pop to downstairs loo where he will spend.approximately 50 minutes having a shit.

He's a great dad in many ways, I just reckon it'd be down to mum to come get me!

Wow Hoopla sounds like something from a book!!

Dione

That would depend on whether Pointless or Tipping Point was on. Once he'd watched the news headlines, he'd probably get a map out and plan the route while mum cleaned the kitchen and planned to get up early 'to miss the traffic'.
Of course they'd have to get a good deal on any travel arrangements so that might mean waiting a few days if they could save a few quid. And they'd need to stop at a Wetherspoons for a mixed grill.
By which point the sex traffickers would have realised that they'd got a duff deal and let me go.

This thread sooooooo deserves to be in classics. Great thread Mitzy

My dad would be angered by my complaining and tell me to stop moaning because plenty of people have it worse, life's not fair, get over it etc etc.

Haha Mitzy! No it's always a bother finding somewhere to exchange those travellers cheques (memories of family holidays spent running back from the beach for the two hours the kiosk was open!)

This is so funny.

My dad would first update his iPad and sort out sat nav. When he got there he would TALK to the kidnappers about their FEELINGS and how to RESOLVE things and nod a lot and say WEEELL. He would forgive them and then take me home. He is a bit like Terry Waite. He only ever really gets cross with BT call centres.

I havent seen my real dad for about 10 years so be wouldnt do anything. My lovely stepdad would come and get me, he has rescued me many times-though never from sex traffickers!

My dad, as is now dead, would probably haunt them..lol
In his hey day he had connections with some dodgy blokes in various countries, so would probably call in a few favour. But he'd probably go himself as well with his illegal sawn off shot gun. He hates the French so would moan consistently.
DH, if it were the girls would probably take a few hours to notice they were missing, but he would spring into action by phoning everyone and their granny till someone did something and pace up and down the floor. He would have phoned his Mp,the SAS, Foreign Office, Interpol, Foreign Legion. He's pretty good with computers so would have pin pointed their exact location. I would have been sent to do the actual pick up as I'm more hands on, and on the way to Paris,he would have phoned 20 zillion times on an update of his various phone calls. When girls were rescued, we would have a phone bill equivalent to the National Debt of Greece :)

My dad would start by hunting high and low for a missing bit of his camera that, it will transpire, doesn't actually exist. Have a bit of a rest with the paper. Check the weather forecast and relay it in French to any captive audience he can find (pot plants, a passing bee, nothing and no-one will be safe).

Go to Paris with a very neat itinerary written elegantly in fountain pen. Overpower the traffickers by explaining cryptic crossword clues in painstaking detail until they cry and plead for mercy.

Meanwhile, my step-mum will be at home still looking for the missing camera part, as my dad will have forgotten to let her know it doesn't exist. All will be fine, however, because She Will Bake Things.

This thread made me laugh such a lot earlier in the year and I never got round to posting on it.

My dad would set off for Paris just as soon as he'd gone to Costco for essential items which would include some good quality meat and very nice cakes and lots of beer.

When he arrived in Paris the traffickers would be disarmed by his smart clothes and clean shoes. He would then launch into some Hitler impressions in German which would frighten and bewilder them. They would come to quite like him and accept a lift home in his very clean car. On the way, having had a call from my step mum, he would stop off at Costco again for bulk packs of cleaning products, tinned goods, loo roll and a new kettle or iron. The traffickers, entranced by the wonders of Costco, would get lost in there, and the rest of us would make it back to my dad's (very clean) house safely in time for a delicious feast prepared by my step mum.

My poor old (now departed) Dad was Jeremy Corbin in a cassock, very much a pacifist and a vicar. He strongly believed in enabling his kids to make their own choices so he's probably start with prayer followed by a reasoned lecture on why violence is not the answer.

That said he had a potty mouth when it suited him and if he did come and rescue me, he'd have a few choice words for the the kidnappers starting with 'If I have bloody told you once....'

Bless him I miss him.

Can't believe I missed this thread at the time! I've got a shit dad. It would probably be 12 months before he found out; he'd use the opportunity to go down the pub and weep maudlin, self-pitying tears into his drink.

My dad is massive, with a broken nose and a missing tooth (he only wears his false tooth on a plate when "going out"). He picked my son up from primary school once in the snow (as he has a 4x4) and son's friend said, "Who's THAT?!"

He once asked, with genuine confusion, why noone had ever challenged him and he'd never had any trouble from anyone in pubs!

Anyway, he'd ignore mum's panicking and asking what the neighbours would say and zoom to France in his little Micra. He does speak French quite well.

He's a good shot but too law abiding to take his shotgun.

I think his very presence might scare the traffickers away. Failing that, he could sabotage their heating and hot water as he was an engineer for British Gas.

We'd be in the dark about his plans as he doesn't make phone calls.

Feck all, he is a useless sack of shit.

My dad is a big softie, bless him. He'd well up and blow his nose with a huge handkerchief, pretending he wasn't crying. Then he'd get my mum on the case who would make some phone calls and raise merry hell. Love my dad, he's kind, dependable and loyal but as much use as a chocolate teapot in an emergency.

My Dad probably would have thought poor them.

This thread is old but I hadn't seen it before and it made me laff

My Dad would ring the council. Then he'd write the date of my abduction in black pen on the wall calendar. Next he would go upstairs and painstakingly print out Ordinance Survey maps of the whole of Europe. This would necessitate 3642 trips to Staples for new ink cartridges, and 3641 trips to the dump, to responsibly dispose of the old cartridges each time. This would be slowed down by his need for a nap every 7 minutes. After that he'd pop to Sainsburys for supplies and a chat with the security guard, a quick flirt with Brenda on till 4 and a visit to the GP, just because.

After that he'd probably fret a bit, decide it was too far to drive and set about shredding each map page individually. He'd also have to have a few hours worrying about whether rescuing me was "needless interference".

Then he'd ask my Mum, and all merry hell would break loose :)

Dad would worry a lot. He's also quite law abiding, level headed and not too practical so the actual planning would be down to mam who would be like a crazy person. They'd probably phone the police, then realising the chance of them finding me was zilch, would probably set off. The dog would be put in the back of the car (she is like their baby), along with plenty of food, toys and water for the dog, mam would make frantic phone calls to her work explaining why she isn't able to go in, while dad packed food supplies. These would be out of date crisps and cans of coke, which would cause my mam to whinge all the way from home to Calais. They would argue while en route, poor dad probably being blamed by mam for letting me go in the first place (she's very overprotective, I wasn't allowed to use the toaster until I was 15!)

They'd eventually get to France, having stopped for the dog to have a run around numerous times, and mam would be exhausted yet wouldn't let dad drive. They'd arrive, somehow find out where I am being kept. At this point both parents would be furious. Mam would be like a bull when shown a red rag, no one hurts her baby, and dad would be calm but frightening. They, at 58 and 65, would probably beat shit out of the kidnappers (mam can be very strong when needed) and rescue me.

There'd be lots of cuddling and kisses, and I'd be looked after. Straight to local A and E for any injuries. Mam would prob make a comment about how shit my hair looked. We would then drive back, dad again getting berated for not packing proper supplies, and once I got home my bed would be made for me.

My dad is a bit of an arse and very New Age. He'd tell himself this was happening to me because I had subconsciously wanted it to. Then he'd trot down to the pub to tell his mates how the horrendous experience of having his first born - she's a really successful engineer and takes after him a lot, intellectually! - abducted by Parisian sex traffickers has really given him insight into the condition suffering on a spiritual level and why don't they pay him 200 quid for him to give them Reiki to deal with theirs?

In his prime my dad wouldn't have noticed I was missing nor would he have cared.
Now he has advanced dementia......ditto!

Mine would panic, form a detailed plan and then relay it to my (most recent) stepmother, who would convince him that's it too late for me and to focus his energy elsewhere.

They'd then probably spend the weekend shopping for cars and holidays.

He'd have forgotten about me within the hour!

*this is based on a serious scenario that ACTUALLY happened to me. I don't speak to him anymore