“HELLO, is that Mrs Corcoran?”
“Yes, who’s this?’’
“It’s Pc Madeupname madam. I’m calling about your missing son.”
“Oh thank goodness, have you found him? Is he OK?’’
“Yes, madam, he is. Safe and well. And 30,000 feet up.”
“I beg your pardon, constable.”
I imagine that’s roughly how the conversation between the mum of Liam Corcoran and the police went on Tuesday afternoon.
Liam, 11, decided he was going to run away and (presumably) bid a silent arriverdeci to his mum who was shopping at Wythenshawe Civic Centre.
He got to Manchester Airport and then evaded five security checks to hop on a Jet2 flight to Rome.
Suspicions were roused part way through the flight apparently.
He was then detained on the flight when it landed and came back on the same plane on its return journey.
Frankly I don’t know whether to be appalled or applaud.
I can only hope that Al Qaida don’t hit upon the idea of dressing as small boys in order to sneak onto a flight.
But, on the other hand, I have to hand it to Liam.
The furthest I got when I ran away from home as a child was about two miles – then I went home when I was hungry.
Liam has managed to traverse Europe unaided.
He even managed to dodge flight taxes and admin fees.
Talk about a money saving expert.
I wonder if he tried to book in hand luggage?
