Ten minutes to kill

Disposable inbox that self-destructs after ten minutes. Exactly what you want when a download demands an email address first.

Fly out through a mapped model of our stellar neighbourhood until the Sun is one unremarkable dot among thousands.

The blunt one-minute word test that has served as the internet's default words-per-minute benchmark for over a decade.

The original tile-merging game, written in a weekend and responsible for an enormous amount of lost 2014.

Straightforward pool on a proper physics table, against an opponent who punishes a lazy break immediately.

Miniclip's pool game, still the default way to lose imaginary money to a stranger in another country at half past two.

Collection of period-correct cursor trails — rainbows, bubbles, snowflakes, ghosts — demoed live so you can wave the mouse about.

Hand-picked, highly rated films that were never blockbusters, filterable by mood and by where you can currently stream them.

Ten sliders — rain, thunder, waves, birds, coffee — mixed on a single page with nothing else on it at all.

One of the oldest portals still standing, from the era when a game loading in thirty seconds counted as instant.

Unfiltered aircraft tracking, including the private jets and military flights that the commercial trackers politely agree to hide.

Be a cell, eat smaller cells, flee larger ones and split to ambush. The game that invented this entire genre in 2015.

Click targets as they pop up and get scored in targets per second. Shooter players use it to warm up before a session.

Live flight tracking with airport arrival boards and playback of earlier flights, formerly known as RadarBox and still free to browse.

Vast crowd-sourced recipe database where the comments are the actual feature — thousands of people telling you what to change.

Type the name of any app and get a crowd-ranked list of alternatives, filtered by platform, price and whether the project is open source.

Fingerprints your browser and compares it against a research dataset of hundreds of thousands of others. The verdict is usually: unique.

Type your address and spin the globe back 750 million years to see where that ground sat, and which ocean was sitting on top of it.

AniList's seasonal grid: everything airing this season in one scroll, sortable by popularity, score or start date.

Every knot worth knowing, animated frame by frame so you can scrub back and forth until your hands finally get it.

Takes a permanent snapshot of a page on demand, including ones the Wayback Machine will not capture. Useful when a page is about to change.

Botanical infinite zoom drifting through flowers, insects and quiet ruins. Best left running on a second screen.

Norwegian classified ads laid out with no grid, no spacing and no mercy, unchanged through every redesign trend since.

Drop an asteroid of your chosen size on any address and read back the fireball, wind speed and earthquake radius it makes.

Generates a genuinely handsome natal chart and flags the rarer patterns, with celebrity charts on hand to compare against.

One astronomy image a day since 1995, each with a paragraph from an actual astronomer and an archive going back decades.

Draw a wonky shape and it offers professional illustrations of what it thinks you meant. Ruthlessly effective on anyone who cannot draw.

A cheerful cartoon avatar generator in one fixed illustration style, endlessly recombined and free to use anywhere.

A straightforward cartoon portrait builder with vector output, useful for when a real profile photo is genuinely not an option.

Lorem ipsum made entirely of cured meats, for mock-ups where nobody was going to read the filler text anyway.

One song revealed a single instrument at a time, six guesses, one puzzle a day. Needs headphones and a decent musical memory.

One-button basketball in which the players, the ball and the court are all changed at random between points, deliberately.

Two-on-two street basketball stripped back to dunking, blocking and a shot meter you will consistently misjudge.

Thousands of recipes in metric with honest timings and star ratings left by people who genuinely cooked the thing.

A company worth hundreds of billions serves a homepage of plain blue links, unchanged since the 1990s and quietly proud of it.

A countdown big enough to read from the back of the room, which is the only real requirement a workshop timer has.

Drag four blobs up and down and they sing genuine four-part harmony, trained on real opera singers, always in key.

Sculpt a glossy blob with sliders for noise, light and iridescence, then leave it rotating and admire your handiwork.

Ben Eater's flocking simulation with the three rules exposed as sliders, so you can break the flock deliberately.

Eleven absurd brushes — blobs, tentacles, exploding dots — that make the composition decisions for you the moment you move.

The cat plays whatever key you press, on bongos, a keyboard or a full drum kit. Peak internet, and still maintained.

Physics sumo where everybody is a circle, the only verb is shove, and the arena keeps getting smaller until someone falls off.

The screensaver logo in full screen, with a counter for how many times it has hit the corner while you waited.

Code-breaking tools and a cipher identifier for when you have a string of nonsense and no idea what it is.

Tens of thousands of riddles, brain teasers and lateral thinking problems submitted by users since 1999.

A search engine built on its own independent index with no profiling of searchers, and filters that let anyone re-rank results by their own rules.

People staple bread to trees and photograph it. There is no deeper explanation available and no sign of it stopping.

Chuck banknotes into an open grave with the mouse, accompanied by an unreasonably committed soundtrack.