Lo-Chr-Hell, would you lot fuck right off with the murders? Paperwork is becoming a real bitch of a thing. Next one of you lot gets sent to me, that's your Hell- middle management, for the rest of eternity.
To make up for my less-than-hospitable colleagues, any fly-by-night demons needing someone to swear an oath to, until the universe gets its head out of its arse, may find me at [address]. Who knows, you may even be released, when this is over. Just don't fuck around until then.