You can tell a lot about a person...

From the condition of their desk.

Say, for example, you walk into an office and see a neat, well organized desk, you'll make the deduction that this person is well organized and takes pride in the work that they do. Or they have an obsessive compulsive for a cleaner.

If, on the other hand, you walk into an office and see a desk full of clutter with unfinished reports hanging out of in trays like an avalanche waiting to happen, you'll come to the conclusion that this person should not be believed when they tell you that the report you asked them to do last month is done and will be on your neat and well organized desk in the morning.

In an office environment this rule of thumb can be applied to help you get reports done on time. It's foolproof. Trust me on this one. I may not have worked in an office but I have spent my life watching humanity and studying their traits and foibles.

What you should do when you are faced with a desk that looks like mine is... Run. As fast as you can. Make for the hills, Flee, Abscond, abandon all hope and get the fuck out of there before your mind snaps and recoils in horror at how anyone can do anything constructive in such conditions.

This is a dangerous place. Step lightly, lest you wake the monster...

If the bottle of Stolichnaya that sits within easy reach of the seat doesn't convince you to bolt for the hills then the shot glass and the bottle of 80% proof rum should.

Ignore, if you can, the hashpipe and the cigarette papers that scream of wanton drug use and make a break for a Buddhist temple to spend the rest of your life in quiet contemplation.

Pretend that the stack of hardcore porn magazines, that sit proudly on the desk, are nothing more than editions of Sports Illustrated and hope that your mind can deal with a lie on such a large scale.

Block out the small glass vial of what looks like finely chopped oregano and pray that it is nothing more than an exotic spice used for adding spice to one of the pizzas that sit curling up in the stack of empty boxes next to the desk and barrel for the door at the fastest speed you can manage.

Pooh-pooh the ashtray that overflows with cigarette ends, so much so that it looks as though it is some kind of freak of nature and is in fact a volcano which spews forth not only ash but used cigarette ends, and skedaddle.

Or, do the rational thing, and fire me. And hope that I don't get it into my head to pay you a visit while I've been drinking...