I remember thinking quite a few years ago after a brief ‘WHOIS’ check on robgrant.co.uk, “hmm, I really hope Rob does something with that”. Well, now he has.
As we all know by now, Rob Grant is beginning (or, at least, actively publicising) his stand-up career at the moment and the launch of this site seems to be a big part of that, giving him a an online presence that more and more people will be looking for in the coming months. Putting the design aside for one moment, it really is very very good and, unlike other sites, a worthwhile and entertaining online presence with plenty of new STUFF to get your teeth into.
If you’re not satisfied with a lengthy and comprehensive life story then I can highly recommend subscribing to his blog (or, ‘Rants’). Regardless of whether you agree with his wider points on certain issues (I’m thinking mainly of the two most recent entries, which are on topics he addressed in Fat) he clearly writes from a position of knowledge and with the sort of wit and conciseness you’d expect from Rob.
There’s also quite an interesting archive of past interviews, including one conducted by some prick with nary an idea on how to come up with interesting questions and was saved by some excellent answers.
Hmm, what else… oh, yeah, how about some brand new (EDIT: or, you know, not as it turns out) pictures from the first Red Dwarf rehearsals featuring Alexandra Pigg and Nick Maloney before they were recast? Fuck yeah. We’re promised more so I personally wont be happy until we have pictures from the rehearsal of every single scene from The End but until then I can entertain myself with the thought of a 7 hour Son of Cliché reunion lunch, the pictures of which are also in the gallery.
For those of you still a bit behind (or just generally slow and stupid) Rob’s also on Twitter, which he updates at a good rate with general observations (presumably the sort of stuff you can expect to be expanded in his stand-up) and probably the best place to watch for gig info. We’ll keep our eye on it and make sure G&T turn up en masse when a London gig is finally set in stone. The poor bastard.