Well, you can’t say he lacks self-esteem. It’s the opening night of Ricky Gervais’s third stand-up tour, which sold out in nine minutes. And if anyone really doesn’t know why they’re in for something special, they won’t be kept guessing for long.

“He’s the creator of the most successful British comedy of all time,” booms Gervais’s mock-Stars In Their Eyes opening announcement. “Hollywood’s hottest Brit . . . the Podfather . . . five million DVDs sold worldwide . . . and now he has the fastest-selling live tour in history! Tonight, Matthew, I’m going to be Ricky Gervais!” As Queen’s One Vision blares out, the curtains part to reveal RICKY spelt out upstage in 10ft-high illuminated letters. On his head, a crown. To his left, a man-sized Emmy Award to hold his can of Heineken.

Bombastic, ironic, yet factually correct, it’s an opening that plays up to Gervais’s self-basting persona. It sets the tone brilliantly for what’s to come: Gervais’s outsized musings on success, mocking and celebrating his status as the in-demand talent behind The Office and Extras.

It’s irony, double irony and more — or is that less? One minute he’s complaining that the press printed that his new house in Hampstead cost £2.5 million — “It was £3.5 million. How am I going to sell it now?” — the next he’s a mere mortal describing the stains on his boxers.

Strip away the play-acting and Gervais doesn’t actually have much to say about fame. But the play-acting is the point, and it’s brilliantly done: his mastery of a crowd is at times awesome. And while he may overestimate the fun to be had from flaunting his prosperity — Glasgow went quiet at the mention of seven-figure house prices — the moral underpinning here is firmer than his casually transgressive delivery suggests.

Amid his various swipes at whingers, opportunists and do-gooders, I particularly liked the routine about adverts urging men to get consent from potential sexual partners: “What kind of society has to remind people not to go raping?” He has the makings of a great live comedian.

But he’s not there yet. Six weeks ago, when I saw in London the first of several try-outs for this show, it was promising but needed more meat on its bones. It still does. Once he’s played out his vainglorious riffs on celebrity and compassion, he lets the tempo slacken with observations on the culture of fame-for-fame’s sake, toilet graffiti and urinating in the sink. His stage set is a promise that his show only half fulfils.

What’s more, he is only on for an hour. And though we also get some typically smart stand-up from Robin Ince, his regular support act, you can’t help feeling that we wouldn’t put up with such short measures if Gervais weren’t the saviour of the sitcom, shifter of the DVD and godking of the internet.

Ah well, that’s Fame for you: looks good, feels good, but lacks a bit of substance.

On tour. www.rickygervais.com

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