Calling all holiday lovers, welcome to Passports Please, the podcast that hacks your holidays.

I'm Chelsea, also known as the cheap holiday expert online.

And I'm James, the one that just loves a holiday.

Fancy, finding out how to blag your way through a city break without a plan?

Covered.

Wondering what you should do if you ever forget your passport?

Speaking from experience, James.

No comment.

So grab your headphones and your carry-on and let's make your next trip unforgettable for the right reasons.

Passports, please, is available to listen wherever you get your podcasts.

Sunday the 25th of January in 1987 at 9.30pm, around the time that the body of Marina Monty lay on a cold, hard slap in Kensington Morty, awaiting a post-mortem.

Rachel Appalweight and an unidentified olive-skinned male

entered the Queen's Head pub, just two streets southwest of Paddington Station.

Said to be so drunk she couldn't walk.

Several eyewitnesses confirmed that she wasn't wearing her usual clothes, a black jumper, a blue denim skirt and blue denim boots.

Instead, she wore a second-hand, navy blue and purple, hotel maid's outfit made of rough polyester,

which being size 12, looked like an embarrassing hand-me-down as Rachel was barely a size 10.

The uniform wasn't hers. Her own clothes were missing. The white bag she was carrying wasn't big enough to hold them.

And she hadn't been back to her flat where her boyfriend Ian was waiting.

This could have been a mildly memorable moment in any pub in West London, but it made the last official sighting of Rachel all more credible,

as she argued and fought with Deborah Mezzan, a prostitute who knew her and had mocked her outfit. Asked to leave, just shy of

last orders. She left with a man who was said to be sober and witnessed the state that he drove

...