We all have those moments of reflection. Something happens that really makes you think: things are gunna have to fucking change. You’re going to have to step up and make something of yourself. It might be the death of a family member, being sacked from a job, a near-death experience or narrowly avoiding the photographer at Thekla on the Thursday you’ve skived off work. For me, my moment came a few days back when I tried (without avail) to explain to my girlfriend why seeing the Steward get twatted by the ball at Birmingham away was probably the funniest moment of my life. It may not be a classic Eureka moment, but all the same the message is loud and clear; it’s time to grow up McGaz mate.

This sparked a mini assessment of where I am in life...21?! I still feel like i’m 16, and i’m still waiting for the Chairman of Liverpool to knock on my door and offer me the player-manager role on a 24 year contract. I’d settle on 30 grand a week initially (it is the dream job after all, money is no object) but after a year or two i’d be demanding parity with Mourinho and the chance to retire to the Maldives by the time I reach 40, and live out the rest of my days in the bliss of being filthy rich. Occasionally I must admit that I start to doubt whether this dream will come true. But then, when i’m just about to hit the low point, some twat of a Facebook Philosopher makes some post along the lines of “anything is possible if you keep on believing”, with a photo of Ghandi or someone in the background and I get sucked right back in again. Keep the fucking dream alive, man.

 I reckon it’s something facing many people my age. Many are just finishing Uni and coming to terms with the all round depression of having to find a job- and any job will have to do. Others didn’t bother with Uni and are now into a fourth or fifth year of working in a job they hate, with little prospect of any great progression in their career or indeed the climb on to the fabled property ladder. I’m somewhere between the two, what with being a drop out and everything. “Chin up McGarry,” I hear you cry, “stop being such a little fanny”. Solid advice that may be, it still strikes me as a bit of a shit state of affairs for 20-odd year olds nowadays. Unless they’ve been to Eton, obviously.

If you’ve made it to this paragraph without closing the page and giving your wrists a particularly vicious slitting, you’ll be pleased to know things are about to get better. I’ve discovered a cure for all these concerns. That cure is nothing more than a good old fashioned spot of compulsive lying, and I shall go on to explain why. There’s a bloke in work who’s a bigger loser than I am, but he’s the happiest camper I know (he’s neither a genuine camper, nor a genuine homosexual, just a figure of speech). He’s taken to lying repeatedly, and despite everyone else knowing his tales are a work of complete fiction, he takes a shit of a lot of joy from them. Good on him I say. And good on his mate, who in the only three bets he has ever made in his life, has made a combined £195000 from a stake of just under a hundred quid. Apparently.

 In fact, I might mention that Liverpool job to him; I bet he knows someone who could set me up.

So I got the first one out of the way, and i’m now into the dark world of writer’s block. Now I’m not one to desperately seek the approval of others so I’ve not been counting, but from my first entry I’m estimating I’ve probably got something similar (ish) to 27 Facebook likes, 3 shares, 3 Retweets, a Favourite and a text of congratulations from my Sister. I didn’t even think I had 27 friends on Facebook or a Sister who loved me, so suffice to say, the past couple of days have been emotional.

Considering that equated to an unadulterated success that I can surely never replicate, I have since been considering whether or not to go out on a high. Don’t panic, I don’t mean i’ve been weighing up the pro’s and con’s of jumping off the Suspension Bridge, I mean packing in the blog as a regular thing and doing a Christmas special every year instead. I think it’s a plan with plenty of mileage, but i’ve decided to crack on regardless; times are tough at Union Berlin and I need a distraction. Besides, according to my profile page I have gained myself a very small but committed following in Europe who I couldn’t bear to let down. Who’s viewing my blog in Spain, Denmark and Germany anyway? Whoever you may be; thank you my Mainland cousins, it’s your support that keeps me going.

Apparently, anecdotes are the name of the game when it comes to blogging, so I’ll share with you my bus journey from yesterday. It was on time for once, and feeling ultra confident I immediately dismissed the notion of sitting downstairs and proceeded up the steps instead, minding not to fall straight back down them as soon as the driver set off unnecessarily quickly, definitely with the express intention of doing me as much damage as possible. 1-0 you bastard, i’m alive to tell the tale.

Upstairs was an assortment of small children exchanging jokes. This one lad worked the crowd with the following- “what’s bigger, the Earth, Jupiter, the Sun, or a Galaxy”, and when one of the little kids would say “a galaxy”, he would reveal that they were actually incorrect, because a galaxy is merely a chocolate bar. It’s not great, but they were five years old so i’ll let him off. Well, I thought it wasn't that great, but the fella looking after them thought it was the most hilarious line he’d heard in all his existence. He turned around in my direction and shouted “OI STEVE!” immediately I assumed I was about to be brutally murdered in a tragic case of mistaken identity, however it turns out that there was another member of their entourage sat at the back. Thank God for real Steve, because I was about to attempt a dramatic escape by diving through the front window.

Now Steve must be cool, because despite the fact he was with a group of people, he decided it was fitting to ditch them and go straight to the back of the bus, on his own, about ten rows behind the rest. Steve was the Dad, and he responded to the call with some kind of strange grunt. “Steve, get on this joke your lad’s just come out with”. The Boy needed some encouragement before delivering his joke again, but eventually he plucked up the courage and presented his Dad with the same options- Earth, Jupiter, the Sun or a Galaxy. I’m speculating at this point because I was facing the other way, but i’m assuming Steve had a look of pure bewilderment on his face as if to silently ponder what a Jupiter was. Ten seconds or so later he replied “err, Earth innit?” Good effort mate, but not quite the answer we were looking for.

Later in the journey one of the kids was on his knees facing the wrong way when the driver suddenly braked, throwing him off his seat in the process. Steve shouted over “see, this is why I tell you to always sit on your bum, Daddy’s always right, remember!”...good God, I fucking well hope he isn’t.

I have been cautiously edging towards the land of the blog for a while now. The trouble I have motivating myself to do anything is neatly summed up by the fact that it is only now, a full two years after dropping out of my Journalism course at Uni, that I have decided to finally start writing one. As a young aspiring Journalist I couldn’t be fucked, now i’m working in an office nine til half five for 5 days a week i’m all over it. What a nobhead.

Gloomy introductions over with, I intend to use this blog as a platform to entertain the world. And by the world I don’t really mean the entire Universe, I mean myself and my Mum who will be the sole readers. Seeing as it’s my first one though, i’m banking on a couple of loyal friends and maybe the odd intrigued half-stranger to retweet the living daylights out of it and propel me into stardom, perhaps even super-stardom. Yes, this entry is my one hope...no wonder it’s taken me four years to write it.

It’s not actually taken me four years, by the way. I’ve been quite busy in that time, especially when you consider what a lazy twat I truly, truly am. I’ve been to Uni and back (those two events occurred unusually close together), i’ve started working full time, i’ve been to endless football matches, plenty of big gigs, many a disgustingly drunk day/night out, i’ve even had a couple of metal rods stuck in my back. I should expand on that last one but I won’t, seeing as you already know exactly what the story is there, Mum.

It does make me laugh, incidentally, that blogs are one of these new big crazes over the last few years. It’s socially acceptable to have a blog (you may disagree that there is anything acceptable about the standard of this entry, to be fair) yet if you were stood in the pub at the match and piped up to inform everyone you were looking forward to going home and updating your diary, everyone may well politely request that you put your drink down and get the fucking hell out of their site. It’s effectively the same thing. I suppose the difference is that your blog is for the public to see, but let’s face it; nobody’s reading your blog mate.

But having said all that, I will keep this up to date wherever time allows. Updated with what, exactly, i’m not yet completely sure. There’ll be football, there’ll be music, I might even have a sneaky dabble in politics but mostly it’ll just be reems of absolute bollocks. Bollocks, at least, that is designed to give you and I a brief chuckle at the end of another one of those days. However, as all of us know whether man, woman or child; sometimes you come home from work and your only worldly interest is to guide Union Berlin to the playoff spots on Fifa. Never mind the blog, bring it on you bunch of little German bastards.