😂 Funny

The New York Post's gossip column, now its own site, still running on restaurant tip-offs and unnamed sources.

The longest-running games comic on the web, three strips a week since 1998, plus the posts that built an industry.

Puts your face on billboards, banknotes and museum walls using several hundred templates. Aggressively 2009.

Names a pixel size and asks you to drag a box exactly that big. Nobody is as good at this as they assume.

Type a phrase and watch every film clip in which somebody says it, cut back to back until the words stop meaning anything.

Daily roundups of the funniest things posted elsewhere, a genre this one has been working since 2009.

Put your cursor anywhere on the page and it finds a photograph of a person pointing at exactly that spot.

Hand-listed index of useless websites, sorted into categories so you can choose your waste of time rather than roll for it.

Deadpan absurdism starring bears, birds and mildly disappointed men, published three times a week since 2008.

A British gossip newsletter of blind items and pop trivia, running since 2000 and still legally very careful.

Click the cat, the cat pops, and every click is added to your country's total in a global leaderboard nobody asked for.

A shelf of harmless fake screens — cracked display, virus alert, retro desktop — meant for a colleague's unattended laptop.

A fake desktop of virus warnings, satellite feeds and password crackers, all keyboard-mashable in full screen.

Full-screen fake terminals, fake updates and fake system alerts. Harmless, closeable with Escape, and very funny on a colleague's screen.

Britain's satirical fortnightly, half jokes and half genuine investigative reporting, in print since 1961.

The RPG with the player removed: choose a race, then watch the bars fill for years. Still the sharpest joke about the genre.

A pug in a rug, plus a timer counting exactly how long you have now watched the pug be in the rug.

Five thousand strips of indie-rock relationship comedy with sarcastic robots, updating every weekday since 2003.

Doodle six things in twenty seconds while a neural net shouts guesses at you. The training set it produced now runs to fifty million drawings.

Four keys drive the four thigh and calf muscles of one Olympic sprinter, and none of them cooperate. The original rage game.

Two floppy archers, one bow each, and physics that decides the winner considerably more often than aim does.

A snarkier reference work covering pseudoscience, conspiracy theories and the people making a living from them.

Women's magazine parody with headlines observed so precisely that they read as criticism rather than jokes.

Leaves a trail of emoji behind your cursor. There is nothing more to it than that, and nothing more is needed.

A hundred yes-or-no questions about things you may have done, counted downward from 100. A student rite of passage since the 1980s.

The definitive index of American roadside oddities: the giant fibreglass animals, the museums devoted to exactly one thing.

Two-button duel on a rooftop where recoil, rather than aim, decides which of you falls off the building first.

Sandwiches rotating slowly on a loop, under a tagline that reads simply, and accurately, that's it.

Tells you the best three minutes to leave for the toilet during any film, and summarises exactly what you missed. Absurd, and it works.

Daily gag strips about science, philosophy and human awfulness, each hiding an extra panel behind the red button.

Conservation campaign for a cephalopod that lives in trees, used for over twenty years to teach children about checking sources.

One piano, several people, one link — everybody's keys light up in a different colour and it descends into noise fast.

A first-person shooter in which every player is an egg and every hit is messy. Considerably better than that premise deserves.

Ragdoll obstacle course whose entire design goal is taking your stickman apart in an inventive new way each level.

A no-frills portal unusually strong on two-player games you can play on one keyboard with somebody sitting next to you.

A better-drawn take on the guess-the-doodle format, with more brushes, custom word lists and rooms that hold a large group.

Draw the word, guess everyone else's, share one link with the group. The default browser party game, and deservedly so.

The seat-pocket catalogue survived the airline it came with and moved online, still selling garden yetis to a captive audience.

The custom emoji every workplace eventually accumulates, downloadable as a pack. The party parrot is in there.

Two-legged football played with a single key, in which the physics engine scores most of the actual goals.

Rule a small kingdom by answering yes or no to whoever walks through the door, then watch the consequences quietly pile up.

The South Park character maker that has been running since 1999 and still gets updated with props from new episodes.

The original film's promotional site, left online untouched for nearly thirty years and preserved when the sequel arrived.

A hundred billion dollars and a shopping list running from Big Macs to aircraft carriers, and it is harder to spend than you expect.

Everyone knows the location except the spy, who has to bluff through the questioning without ever revealing they have no idea.

Swing a stick figure between grapple points using one button, then trust momentum to carry the mistake.

An idle game that keeps buying you more stimulation until the page is a lo-fi stream, a podcast and a fidget spinner at once.

Gag gift shop selling the same reliable nonsense since the dot-com boom, on a layout that has aged in real time.