Ten minutes to kill

The account that rates every dog above ten out of ten and has defended that scale in public for over a decade.

The planet chopped into three-metre squares, each given a three-word name, which is either brilliant or a licensing trap depending who you ask.

The space station's position, ground track and next passes over you, with an orbital countdown that is oddly hard to stop watching.

Two portraits side by side, one photographed and one generated. A University of Washington project, and your score keeps falling.

Search engine for hand-made pages in the spirit of the early web, with a surprise-me button that behaves exactly like 1998.

Instructions for very nearly anything, illustrated in that unmistakable cartoon style. The artwork alone justifies the visit.

One click, one random Wikipedia article, repeated until the afternoon has quietly gone somewhere else.

The editors' own curated list of the encyclopedia's strangest entries, and the best rabbit hole entrance there is.

Wikipedia articles served as a vertical swipe feed, which is either a public service or the end of civilisation.

Wikipedia with a readable layout, a proper contents sidebar and images that stop fighting the text.

A dictionary of every word in every language, including etymologies, declension tables and regional slang.

A dilemma, a tempting benefit, a horrible catch, and the percentage of everybody else who pressed it regardless.

Ten minutes out of somebody else's window somewhere in the world, filmed by them and left quietly running.

The forecast as an animated map, with wind, waves, temperature and a dozen models to argue between, free and without an account.

Answers computed rather than retrieved: integrals, unit conversions, orbital mechanics and the nutritional content of a Mars bar.

Six goes at one five-letter word, the same word for everybody, once a day. The puzzle that spawned an entire genre in three months.

Renders your text in every font installed on the machine at once, which is the fastest way ever devised to pick one.

A dictionary showing real usage, related words and examples pulled from the wild rather than agreed by committee.

Readings from thousands of air monitoring stations worldwide on one map, colour-coded from a calm green to a genuinely alarming maroon.

Guess the country from its silhouette alone, with each miss handing you the distance and compass bearing to the real answer.

Live counters for population, emissions, water use and books published, ticking faster than is entirely comfortable.

One expanding circle to breathe along with, adjustable to box breathing or 4-7-8, and nothing else on the page.

A vast, barely filtered pile of browser games including a great many Flash-era oddities kept alive by an emulator.

Widely reckoned the strongest reverse image search for faces, places and heavily cropped photos. Worth trying when TinEye finds nothing.

Unicode styling for places that forbid formatting, so bold and italic survive a paste into a profile bio.

Old Faithful on a live feed, plus static cameras on the geyser basin and the north entrance, run by the National Park Service.

The Norwegian met office's forecast, famously accurate across Scandinavia and unusually calm about admitting uncertainty everywhere else.

Piles combining diacritics onto every character until your text bleeds into the lines above and below it.

Two minutes of mental arithmetic at whatever difficulty you set, boiled down to a single number. Trading desks drill on this one.

You can do anything at Zombo.com. The welcome message has been loading since 1999 and it has never once explained itself.

Satellite imagery refreshed through the day, with storm tracks, wildfire hotspots and rainfall radar layered over the top of it.

Feeds your own video call bad audio — echo, crying baby, wind — until everyone agrees the connection is the problem.

The sequel quilt, darker and stranger than the first, still folding into itself with no end and no explanation.

A space shooter where you destroy incoming words by typing them, and rising panic is the entire difficulty curve.