Ice Cream and Jelly

Do you remember the days when your birthday would essentially just involve giving yourself a fucking stomach ache? Absolute too much cake and jelly and shit. So why is it then that we looked forward to birthdays far more when we were kids? They seem fucking rubbish in retrospect.
"Oh yeah fucking cheers for the football. Yeah well I'm a boy aren't I so I must love fucking football."
Yeah some guy who you just invited because he was in your class gave you that. At least these days people who give you presents actually know who you are. Although saying this, I suppose if I told my younger self what birthdays involve now he wouldn't be that impressed.
"Well basically you drink alcohol, which is actually quite likely to cause you to forget the entire evening, and then you go to a club which is essentially a dark room and dance around to songs you might not even like particularly much."
"Are you serious?"
"......Well yeah."
"That sounds fucking shit you mug."
Yeah I'm not sure why I've made my younger self sound like Danny Dyer. I literally didn't sound like that when I was a kid. In fact I was always conscious of my voice being ridiculously high when I heard it back in a recording. I probably thought I sounded like Harrison Ford or something stupid but I fucking didn't. I sounded like a twatty little kid.
"No honestly it is pretty fun."
"How? Explain exactly how that is fun. Where's all the jelly? Jelly tastes nice. Tastes a fuckload nicer than fucking vodka."
"Well yes but..."
"No. Shut it. You've embarrassed yourself, and therefore you've embarrassed me, because I'm you, and I don't like being embarrassed," (is anyone else now imagining him {me} to sound like Michael Cain?) "You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off."
"What doors?"
"...."
I wonder if a conversation with your younger self actually would go a bit like that. My thinking is most definitely yes. But at this point I'd consider the fact that I'm quite a lot bigger than 4 year old version of myself so I'd proceed to kick the shit out of myself. Then Stephen Hawking would come along and be like: "What the HELL is going on here?? This is ridiculously impossible. AS IF this makes scientific sense."
Younger Self: "Who invited this cunt to the fucking party?"
Hawking: "He did." (Points at my Dad. My Dad looks a bit sheepish.)
Younger Self: "Well you'd better consider yourself uninvited" (Now in a voice like Clint Eastwood).
This would be the moment when I'd decide it was time to take my leave, seeing as I've caused yet another paradoxical mess which results in a fight between a small boy and a wheel-chair bound scientist. I've literally done it like 7 times this week already.
(The cake emerges)
Haaaaappy biiiiirthday toooo Kiiiirk.
Hawking literally wrecks the entire song with his fucking monotonous robot voice. My dad now proper regrets inviting him. But only now, not for the fight he's having with his son. Who is me.
(Head explodes)
Over and out.