Do you remember the first time you realised you were no longer with it? That creeping evolutionary tingle of dread that warns you may no longer align with the tribe’s majority? Was a popular musician not on your radar, did you miss the recent tariffs for penguins in the McDonald Islands fiasco? Did you pull an Estelle Costanza and ask if merlot was “just invented”?

I’ve not experienced such a phenomenon of course because I’m cool, relevant and extremely humble about it. I swear I’m still with it, but, despite my timeless essence, I was recently almost derailed on the subject of Cadbury Creme Eggs. I love the Cadbury Creme Egg and assumed everyone felt the same.

After an entirely sleepless night I ran a conceited Instagram poll to confirm my bias. How are we feeling about these seasonal delights? I smugly typed, assuming the results would favour the palpable truth. Two options were presented: “Heaven in a chocolate shell” or “The devil has spawned an egg, its name is Creme.”

Sixty-one per cent of respondents sided with Satan’s devious dealings, meaning 61 per cent of respondents despised the Cadbury Creme Egg. Oh, my ego.

“IT’S TOO SWEET” is the cursory critique of the Cadbury Creme Egg. But this is an Easter egg to make kids go wild.

Dismayed, I inquired further. So many adverse responses, such a colossal lack of gratitude from the masses! Why is my inbox heaving with false claims of a cloying and disgusting egg? Those who don’t enjoy the Cadbury Creme Egg are clearly at war with their inner child.

As a generation to experience an offline life crudely interrupted by dial-up modems, Millennials are all a little confused as to how we missed the boat on property ownership while also being deprived of lucrative opportunities to influence, partner and livestream as a sixth sense.

Consequently, G-rated comfort and escapism is required for us thirtysomethings to effectively forget and forge on. Rampant nostalgia is the only way we know how. To ignore the future, we revel in the past. We turn to what our inner child craves and yet keep our whims at arm’s length.

At parties we’ll reach for crudites but secretly pine for triangles of fairy bread. Watching children innocently button mashing at Mario Kart ignites a savage desire to annihilate them all. We yearn for $5 Rooster Rolls and remember the unfortunate stronghold Ski D’Lite had upon mothers. Charcuterie boards of fontina cheese and finocchiona salami are cool, but where are the Mini Babybels? I want to peel and feel. The Cadbury Creme Egg is that red, waxy nostalgia for me.

To the ungrateful 61 per cent, I ask: would you hold the Cadbury Creme Egg in higher esteem if it were presented on a trolley, in a restaurant, beside a tray of hacked-at tiramisu? I implore you to please get out of the brasseries and off the burrata and seek enlightenment.

I now disdainfully plead my (very much unsponsored) case in defence of the Cadbury Creme Egg.

First, we feel a certain heft. A supreme sense of generosity already presents itself even before unfurling. Yes, they used to be bigger, but this Easter egg remains heavier than its commercial contemporaries of similar dimensions. I’m receiving something of significance in the palm of my hand. Thank you for this gift I am able to receive – this is my Communion.

Secondly, there is no partition within its shell. Modern Easter eggs are often assembled by joining two individually filled and sealed halves. This load-bearing vertical column of bulky chocolate disturbs the egg’s overall mouthfeel with its unfavourable proportions. The Cadbury Creme Egg does no such thing. Each mouthful yields uninterrupted fondant opulence at a chocolate-to-filling ratio of 53:47. Just as Happy Gilmore is cinema, the construction of the Cadbury Creme Egg is architecture.

Thirdly, the yellow-stained fondant fleck within the Cadbury Creme Egg’s fake albumen both surprises and delights. Although Cadbury doesn’t need to mimic life through art, it does, for us.

Consider Peter Gilmore’s now retired Quay snow egg – a sphere of poached meringue elegantly set in a glass of granita and fool. For the latter, seasonal ice-cream mimicking an egg’s yolk was nestled within the meringue – its purpose, beyond tasting good, to surprise and delight once cracked open. This is the same reason babies giggle and clap at adults hiding behind their hands before saying hello – they love a reveal! A little yolky fun is our peek-a-boo.

“IT’S TOO SWEET” is the cursory critique of the Cadbury Creme Egg. But this is an Easter egg to make kids go wild. It’s the McRib of confectionery; mass-produced culinary sophistication second only to Streets Viennetta. Gaudy foil wrapping, a tacky mouth necessitating many glasses of water after the fact – we deserve it all because we deserve happiness. Yes, the Cadbury Creme Egg is unsubtle, but it’s also oozy, messy and fun.

Please disregard your protein goals momentarily and reacquaint your younger self with joy. Allow the charm of the Cadbury Creme Egg to ease your modern stressors (lower back pain, Severance season finale, ineffective melatonin supplements, etc).

Remember Gak? Remember Chomps? It’s 1997 and you’re standing barefoot in a yard just mowed, your hands sticky with melted chocolate and fondant. It’s the Easter long weekend, there’s no school tomorrow, your shadow is long in the afternoon light. Your inner child is content, your inner child is well rested, your inner child basks in the life of the elite 39 per cent who know that the Cadbury Creme Egg is truly heaven in a chocolate shell. Let’s go, Team Creme.