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.

Johnny Haig seems such an unassuming little fellow. Johnny Haig seems such an unassuming little fellow, small and slight, neat and polite,

and being just a few weeks from 40, blessed with a boyish face, dimpled cheeks, and an unbroken voice,

as he nibbled his toast and supped his tea, the quiet little choir boy whose mummy had dressed him in bow ties was still easy to see, but not the

monster that he claimed to be. For the last few hours, the four men sat in the stuffy

cramped confines of interview room three of Chelsea police station.

And as Chief Superintendent Barrett, divisional detective inspector Symes and detective inspector Webb listened.

Little Johnny Haig candidly recounted his callous crimes with the calmness of a man for whom murder was routine.

And as each delicious detail tickled him, his feeble moustache bristled, but behind the

dark dots of his marble-like eyes, there was nothing.

I have made some statements about the disappearance of Mrs. Durand Deacon.

The truth is, we left the hotel together, and she was inveigled by me into going to Crawley.

Having taken her to the storeroom at Leopold Road, while she was examining some paper for use of fingernails,

...