I hate birthdays. I hate birthday parties. I hate them. I don’t know what it is, anybody’s only got to come wafting near me with a piece of cake with a candle on and I break out in hives.

In this comic, hyperbolic complaint, Deeley frames birthdays not as celebrations but as anxiety triggers. The repetition (“I hate… I hate… I hate…”) mimics a spiraling reaction, while the image of someone “wafting” in with cake and candles turns a familiar party ritual into an almost allergenic threat. The punchline—“I break out in hives”—signals an exaggerated, bodily aversion that reads as both humor and a candid admission of discomfort with attention, aging, or forced festivity. As a celebrity remark, it also plays against expectations that public figures enjoy parties, using self-deprecation to create relatability.