I spent an evening with Nick Kyrgios. It was bleaker than expected

Clearly this is at odds with many years of ugly tantrums, and indeed his own marketing as a maverick. “I just enjoy being a little s— sometimes, I like causing mischief” he said, growing into the evening. But also: “I’ve never been this nervous for anything in my life. Playing in front of the Royal Box has nothing on this.” He claimed he had “four vodkas out the back” beforehand.

Kyrgios likes a drink. It runs through this show and came up in an interview with Louis Theroux earlier this year, when he said he used to indulge five or six nights a week with up to 30 drinks a night. He has also suffered with depression and self-harm. It sounds like there are some unresolved issues about tennis being foisted upon him by his family, who saw a less promising future in Kyrgios’s favoured sport of basketball.

He has said repeatedly he is far from in love with the sport which made his name and it is worth viewing his angry behaviour through this prism. Perhaps only golf is more fury-inducing for its competitors. Imagine playing all that tennis when you are not even sure you like it.

Things turn south after the interval. When this tour was announced audiences were promised “a HUGE surprise guest for a candid, unscripted exchange”. In Wimbledon this was Daniel “Horse” Horsfall, Kyrgios’s manager, business partner and childhood friend. He is charismatic enough but his memories of teenage Pokemon sessions and knowledge of Kyrgios’s many fines is not enough to carry a show. There is an interactive quiz, as bad and momentum-killing an idea in a theatre as it is at a wedding reception.

The second half begins with Kyrgios doing shots on stage with two audience members. It has the feel of something he will be recounting on another podcast 10 years from now as a low ebb. Down the road from a tournament he should be playing in, which he came close to winning, joylessly downing vodka to muted cheers from a respectable audience.

There is no need to be too pious about this. Clearly there is a market for boozy yarns in this setting, hence the continued viability of the Paul Gascoigne live show. Gazza is a more damaged character, with a similar rap sheet, but at least he has some riotous stories to tell. Kyrgios trades instead in “partying” as a verb, with little added detail.

We heard one anecdote about going out with Roger Federer, who is inevitably on the champagne, and an implication that he is tight with his money. But mostly it sounds like drinking for its own sake. We’ve all done it, we’ve all enjoyed it, but it is thin gruel without the well-honed tales which justify hedonism in an audience’s eyes.

Few in attendance had their best night of the year but few went home disappointed, despite punchy pricing – $170 for a stalls tickets feels questionable for a handful of decent Kyrgios quips and the consummate presenting skills of Smart. The highlight of the night was a video clip.

The screen shows Kyrgios sitting down between games at the Citi Open in Washington DC, then hurling a water bottle at an umpire’s chair with absolute venom. He is chided, then claims repeatedly that “it slipped out of my hand”. It brings the house down.