CAPTCHAs: Prove you’re not a robot by identifying every blurry fire hydrant since 1978

Ah, CAPTCHAs. The internet’s version of a nightclub bouncer, arms folded, black clipboard, expressionless face.

You roll up in your digital trainers, ready to enter. And the bouncer says, “Not so fast. First, prove you’re not a robot.”

Now, you and I know we’re human (unless you’re reading this from a robot uprising hideout, in which case, hi, welcome, no hard feelings).

But apparently, it’s not enough to just say you’re human. You must earn it. You must click your way to dignity.

The glory days of squiggly letters

It wasn’t always this complicated. Early CAPTCHAs were simple. They gave you a blurry jumble of letters and numbers and asked you to type them out.

A little challenge, but doable.

Sure, sometimes you mistook an “rn” for an “m,” but you got through it. It was low stakes. It was like the internet whispering, “Hey, spell this word badly and we’ll let you in.”

Now? It’s escalated into a full-blown entrance exam.

To leave a comment on a cat video, you must essentially pass the driving theory test in a country you’ve never visited.

The great fire hydrant conspiracy

Which brings me back to fire hydrants. Why is it always fire hydrants?

I don’t live in New York. I’ve barely seen one in person. Yet I have clicked thousands of them, squinting at tiny boxes like a caffeinated Where’s Wally puzzle.

Sometimes it’s not even clear.

Is that a hydrant, or a weird red bollard? What if it’s just a post box with commitment issues?

And do you click the square that has part of the hydrant in it? Because I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve hesitated, clicked, and been told I failed.

I’m convinced we’re all training some secret AI to recognise obscure municipal objects.

One day it’ll rise up, perfectly capable of identifying traffic lights, but unable to love.

The checkbox era: Too good to last

Then came a brief golden age: the “I am not a robot” checkbox. Remember that? One click. Done. Bliss.

Except… it wasn’t really magic.

It was tracking your mouse movements, timing, and probably your astrological sign to decide whether you were bot-like.

Which is fine, unless you’re me at 11pm, clicking stiffly like a malfunctioning Roomba. Fail. Back to the hydrants.

The checkbox was too good for us. We didn’t appreciate it. We didn’t treasure it. And so it was taken away.

CAPTCHAs as psychological warfare

Here’s the thing nobody talks about, CAPTCHAs are humiliating. Nothing bruises your ego quite like failing to prove you’re alive.

You’re sat there, furiously clicking boxes, when the site coolly says, “Try again.” Try again? Try again?!

I pay bills. I know how to parallel park (badly, but still). I once recited all the lyrics to Mr. Brightside at karaoke without looking at the screen.

That’s humanity, baby.

Failing a CAPTCHA makes you feel like an imposter in your own body. It’s the internet equivalent of your mum asking, “Are you sure you’re my child?”

The audio nightmare

And then there’s the fallback option, the audio CAPTCHA. Have you ever tried one?

It’s like listening to a Dalek having a heated argument underwater while a fax machine screams in the background.

You sit there with headphones on, straining to pick out numbers like you’re cracking cold war codes. “Was that a 7? Or a goat?”

Meanwhile, anyone walking past assumes you’ve joined a very avant-garde meditation class.

Why we put up with it (the serious bit, reluctantly)

Of course, the reason we endure this ritual is because bots are everywhere.

They’re scooping up concert tickets, spamming forms and selling you cryptocurrency schemes that promise to double your money overnight.

CAPTCHAs are, at their heart, a shield.

A slightly cracked, infuriating shield, but one that stands between you and a horde of spambots trying to post “Hot Singles In Your Area” under your aunt’s Facebook post about her begonias.

So I get it. We need them. But surely there’s a kinder way? Something more… human?

What CAPTCHAs should be

Imagine if the test was something we’d actually be good at.

Like:

• “Click all the images where someone has clearly faked enjoying kale.”
• “Which of these cats looks like it’s plotting world domination?”
• “Identify every photo of IKEA furniture assembled incorrectly.”

We’d smash those. No hesitation. Humanity, proven.

The mock CAPTCHA (because of course there is one)

And now, dear reader, it’s time for your test. Please complete the following CAPTCHA to prove you’re human enough to finish this blog post:

Select all squares that contain:

• The creeping dread of Monday mornings
• Half-drunk cups of tea
• Passwords you definitely can’t remember
• Someone pretending they’ve “read the terms and conditions”

If you passed, congratulations! You are officially human. Unless, of course, you’re a robot that’s really into tea. In which case, welcome.