What the filling in a Cadbury Creme Egg is really made of has stunned social media users. Photo / Janna Dixon

Three things are certain in life – death, taxes, and the out-size presence of Cadbury Creme Eggs on supermarket shelves come Easter.

Perhaps the treat most synonymous with the four-day holiday, the eggs comprise a hard, milk chocolate shell and – when bitten into – a gooey filling.

What that goo is, exactly, is a mystery to one and all. Or was a mystery: one Creme Egg fiend posed the question to her Twitter followers recently. Could it be marshmallow? White chocolate? Something more sinister?

Turns out it’s not sweetened and food-coloured snot, despite what the texture may have led you to believe.

According to Cadbury, it’s actually fondant – made of sugar, milk, glucose, syrup, cocoa butter, inverted sugar syrup, dried whey, vegetable fats and dried egg white.

“Life isn’t the same anymore when you realise the filling inside the Cadbury Creme Egg is just icing sugar,” one person wrote.

Is the so-called revelation enough to deter people from indulging in the eggs? Evidently not.

“I would drink gallons of the Cadbury Creme Egg filling,” someone tweeted (seek help).

“If I knew how to make the Cadbury Creme Egg filling, I would eat an entire bowl of it,” another wrote.

While a third said: “Who else finds the creamy filling in the Cadbury Creme Egg, to be both absolutely disgusting, yet somehow wonderful?”

The key word, in that last comment, is “disgusting”. Which is exactly what Creme Eggs are.

Anyone who contributes to the consumption of the 500 million eggs made year-round (according to Cadbury) is delusional.

There’s a reason a ‘Cadbury Creme Eggs are Rotten’ Facebook group was once a thing – because they are, indeed, “rotten”, perhaps the most revolting Easter treat to ever exist.

“The egg is treacherous: it just looks so good with its shiny chocolate exterior, and the gooey inside it claims to have,” one UNSW student wrote in a piece titled ‘Why Cadbury Creme Eggs are the worst’.

“It gets you every time, persuading you that it might taste better this time around. That your tastebuds might have improved.

“The problem is not in your tastebuds, though. Nobody could love a misbegotten creation that mocks both chocolate and fondant through its existence.”