“Move over Club Penguin, there’s a new horrifically laggy, slightly problematic, bug-riddled, deeply iconic flash game to crash your parents' 2012 HP Spectre on.”

“I now sported my shiny new Bakiez management badge, and became the perfect power-tripping 12 year old, telling off all the other inferior 12 year olds. I was no longer the trainee, I was the trainer.”

As August appears every year, so does a discrete package at the footstep of my family home.

I mean it. Honestly.