Boulder Boff was an unassuming building, it was a small single story bar with three rooms and was a unique place in that it was in between County lines and as such was not governed by a local council. This meant that the council tax was no existant but it was under constant observation by people wanting the place.
The current owners were deliberately provoking in their conduct. The large yellow A-board outside promised TOPLESS BARMAIDS (tomorrow) and occasionally the head bar maid would step up on the tease on social media, offering a tantilising glimpse of what people hoped to see.
She would start each shift giving each member of staff a friendly kiss on the cheek before starting with the plan for the day. Today was no different, the plan for the day was a pleasnt one. It was a paid holiday and all the staff were to be taken to the beach save for herself, she would be staying behind to watch the bar. That was her story anyway. An hour later three men arrived with tunnelling equipment, she guided them to the cellar.
“The tunnel will meet the inlet in 400 feet,” she said. “It’ll be easier for you to bring in the booze that way. No customs officers in a cave.”