My pupils… they ain’t coming back.

Wax mannequins in a department store melt during a London heat wave, circandle 1930.

The robuts are really in to musical notation…

We’re pretty well sorted, thanks.

I am empty in side.

Am I getting meme’ed on?

We must debug, deeper.

I’m something of an actor…

Uncalibrated danger noodle…

Beauty and the thirst.

Your dad is showing…

hodl the jar! – Hodor, probably.

Happy Birthday, bro.

The future of competitive games is now.

Your breath stinks, Ted.