Well, turns out demons have their own form of it--the supernatural stock exchange, where the main commodity being traded is souls. A few demonic yuppies were takin' the opportunity to inflate the market by egging on more people to sell their souls to 'em, get in good regards with their boss.

[As he speaks, he makes vague gestures with his hands.]

Their boss--Blathoxi, lord of flatulence--figures that he's secure. With the Conservative party in power and slated to win the upcoming election, he's got nowhere to go but up as more humans become desperate enough to cash in their souls. But me? I'm not exactly keen on seeing that happen.

[A pause. A wicked grin appears on his face.]

So I ring up ol' Blathoxi and tell him I'm gunning to sell my soul.