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?

*blond = bloke

My dad would be phoning police and politicians to complain and then the papers and national news. I think he'd get on the first plane to kick up a fuss with the Parisian police. He'd probably end up getting himself arrested for yelling at people.

My dad died when I was very small and I don't have any memories of him.

From what I can gather from relatives he probably would have made some amusing quips and then driven to Paris in some antiquated car that he renovated himself, making sure that he had his cine camera and photography equipment with him to capture the moment, all while dressed in a shirt, tie and v necked jumper in the height of summer.

My dad would sit in front of the telly harrumphing while mum ranted on about how it was my own fault I got kidnapped as I was always naughty and if I has been a good daughter it would never have happened

I would have rescued myself as usual.

Dad would have picked me up from the train station when I got back and slipped me a £20 note in case I was skint though

RIP daddy, I miss you

Once he'd got over the surprise of sex traffickers wanting his 37 weeks pregnant 35 year old dd....

He'd make a cup of tea,then set about trying to find me in a very quiet and calm fashion, ensuring he made no unnecessary fuss and followed all bureaucratic procedures, whilst desperately hoping to have it all sorted before my mother found out.

Once she found out, there would be hysterics, it would be my dad's fault somehow, and she would make enough noise about it to get all kinds of people on the case sorting it out. Afterwards, my dad would never hear the end of it....

Much of this is based on losing my sister on a beach about 25 years ago....

My dad would only contact the guardian and left wing media that he approved of and would spend most of his time talking about which policy was to blame for the terrible life of the kidnappers that had led them to become kidnappers because if they had had a better education and not been in poverty and socially excluded it wouldn't have happened.

Well I WANT to say he would make a nice cup of tea and then discreetly pay someone over the odds for my safe rescue but unfortunately when one of my siblings was actually in a sticky situation overseas and I phoned him for help he said 'I can't do anything we are doing a fun run today' so I will just have to hope he's not too busy that day.

My wonderful dad died when I was a teenager. But he would have finished earthing up the potatoes, fed the chickens, put a smart shirt on and whipped up an emergency lasagne, before informing the proper authorities, and then tearing apart the world with his bare hands to find me.

Meanwhile my mum would have gone to fetch me back in time for Dr Who, refused to buy me a comforting Cornetto, but might have agreed to an orange and a Dairylea triangle if I'd promise to not let myself be thoughtlessly trafficked again.

As long as it didn't cost much and he could use items bought from a charity shop or car boot sale, my dad would help. He'd take encheest way there, so probably a coach which would take three days. I'd probably be in Russia by the time he got to Paris.

Take the cheapest way...

My father died when I was 10, but if he had lived I reckon he would have been fishing at the weekend as he loved going so would not have known I was gone!

Then once he did know I was gone, he would have tried to get authorities to help. Action man my dad was not!

My Dad would be straight down the motorway to Dover to catch the early morning ferry, only to realise that his passport expired in 2011 and he didn't bother to renew it because him and my mum "aren't that fussed about going abroad".

My Dad is old now. He would probably be relieved he no longer has to subsidise me & would get Mum, who speaks fluent French, to thank them fulsomely. In his prime he was a copper (not bent) an A1 Class 1 marksman, & my hero. (still is, actually) So in theory could rescue me, in practice, he'd probably pay someone to do it. Bless him.

nothing. he'd have been the one to sell me to them tbh

My dad would go all A team and rig up dodgy weapons with his hedge trimmer and air rifle and set off to rescue me.

My dad would have been on the golf course so wouldn't have got the phone call. Two days later he might glance at his phone and realise he had a voicemail at which point he'd make himself a cuppa, go through to the conservatory for a cigarette and go back to his desk to check his emails. After watching corrie he'd remember he'd got a voicemail and finally listen to it. He'd check his emails again, have another cigarette in the conservatory, get a couple of glasses of wine and some crisps and spend the rest of the evening on the sofa with mum watching a film they've seen fifteen times before (probably Taken) before going to bed.

Once in bed, just as Mum is about to fall asleep he'd say "Oh, L called, she's got herself into a bit of bother in Paris". Mum would automatically jump to the worst possible conclusion and assume I was dead. Dad would say "Don't be stupid, she can't be dead or there wouldn't be a voicemail.", Mum would say "you've got to do something then, maybe we should call the police" and he'd reply "She'll be fine, besides, she's got to learn to stand on her own two feet" and fall asleep. Mum would spend the rest of the night worrying over what music I'd want played at my funeral and what colour the flowers should be.

Once I'd freed myself from the sex traffickers I'd probably call and ask him to tell Mum I'm fine and not to worry. He'd ask if I'd be coming in to work tomorrow. If he was feeling particularly generous he'd ask if I was flying in to the local airport and offer to pick me up if he wasn't playing golf again. Once back Mum would berate me for scaring her and Dad might ask if I'd had a nice holiday.

I should mention this is pretty much what happened when I first went to meet my now DH.

My dad is a retired civil servant. He would write a concise report on the situation with a recommendation of what action should be taken and send it to the foreign secretary.
He would follow this up by having a pithy letter published in the bottom right-hand corner of the Telegraph letters page.
My mum would get a mass said for me and all the female members of my extended family would go and light candles for me.

Sarahplane

Are you my sister?

I don't have my dad anymore but it would have been thus: pick up his mates Bob, Tom and Tony. Drive around swearing and smoking roll ups and pipes and sharing corned beef sandwhiches and drinking tea out flasks. Find me and stop swearing (because I had delicate ears at 21!) and let Bob sort them out while the others fussed over me and gave me sandwhiches and tea. Drive back singing Abba and Dr Hook songs and asking if I should have worn a coat whilst being abducted and did I not keep some money separate for a phone call.

(At dads funeral I was fed tea and sandwhiches by the three of them, they worked together for 25 years so it's liking having lots of dads!)

My dad would have no idea as he never answers the bloody phone....

My mum would point out he had a voicemail a few days later, after listening they would have a far too strong vodka and coke, my dad would sit at the bottom of the garden, have a few cigarettes and formulate a plan.
He would argue with my mum about where they keep the passports, she would mither him about taking a jumper/coat/sun cream/hat/anything he may ever need.

He would ring work to say hes "had a bit of bother with our young 'un, aye i'll be in tomorrow"

Eventually he would get to paris, moan it was full of the bloody french, find the kidnappers and try sit them down for a chat. "Come on now lads, theres no need for all this fannying round is there...im missing work for this!"

Eventually, if talking didnt work he would beat the shit out of anyone he could lay hands on. Get me in the car, stop to stock up on cheese, wine and various poncey ingredients.

Then make jokes about "well they would have brought you back eventually, they'd get bloody sick of you soon enough"

My mum would be ringing us every 4.2 seconds for the duration. He wouldnt know because his phone is on silent....

My dad likes to think he is as kick ass as liam Nielson. However he is not, though he is very good at shooting abd very street wise. He'd get as far as the crack den place I think before ending up either lost for leads or dead. Either that or arrested at Heathrow for smuggling a shotgun in his hand luggage.

My dad is dead, but before he died he would probably have had a cop of tea, a little cry and then carried on without me. My DH would ring his dad for advice. I would call the FCO and raise merry hell. Then I'd get a bit stabby.

My DF was a sergeant major in the armed forces before he married my mum. I have no doubt in my mind that he would have done exactly the same as Liam.

Growing up he was a big on discipline but also had a huge soft side too and I remember all of our friends telling us they wished they had a dad like ours. He is now 81 and is loved dearly by his 10 grandchildren and 5 great children, and is probably still more than capable of giving Liam a run for his money

SarahPlane, can I have my dad back please? This recycling won't sort itself you know.

The first thing my dad would do is make a list of what he needs to pack:

Underpants x 2
Pair shorts
Trousers x 1
Camo shirt poss?
Sports jacket
Spare pair shoes
Travellers cheques
Passport
Ferry tickets
Machine gun x 2

He would then leave the above items neatly on the bed ready for my mum to pack in a suitcase. While she was doing this he'd check out the Paris weather forecast, and then the AA routefinder and the BBC travel news to work out how long it would take. Working backwards based on what time he needed to be in Paris in order to rescue me before the rain sets in, he'd then decide what time to depart. This would include leaving extra time for a coffee break every 2 hours, and an extra hour just to be on the safe side. He'd also want to make a reservation for the Travelodge in Dover the night before so he was well rested.

Car safety check - tyre pressure, screenwash, headlights in order, quick cup of filter coffee, set the video to record Poirot, fill up with petrol and he'd be ready to go! By this time I'd probably have managed to escape myself...