It’s Monday night in Sydney and the area around the ICC is humming. Thousands of people are heading towards the TikTok Entertainment Centre to see Lily Allen, who is back with one of the most talked-about albums of the past year. Tonight she’s performing West End Girl, the critically acclaimed record that documents the breakdown of her marriage to actor David Harbour. It’s a deeply personal album, and Allen is performing the whole thing, in order, from beginning to end.

Anyone hoping to hear The Fear, Smile or Fuck You from Allen herself is out of luck. There are no greatest hits tonight, but she has come up with a very entertaining alternative.

Before Allen appears, a six-piece ensemble (The Dallas Minor Sextet) takes to the stage with a conductor and begins working its way through some of her best-known songs. What follows is hilarious. The TikTok Entertainment Centre suddenly becomes a giant orchestral karaoke bar, with 9,000 people enthusiastically singing along to chamber music arrangements of Fuck You, The Fear and other favourites. I realise at one point, that the conductor is enthusiastically conducting the entire audience as well as the sextet through Allen’s hits.

The best part is that the audience delivers the songs exactly as Allen originally recorded them, complete with her distinctive phrasing and cheeky delivery. Hearing thousands of people singing Fuck You over a polite arrangement of strings is wonderful. It’s a clever way of giving the crowd the hits without compromising the main event.

After an interval, Allen finally appears, looking stunning in a gold dress. The stage resembles a theatre production rather than a conventional pop concert, with gorgeous green drapes forming the backdrop. As they open, different scenes are revealed, complete with a bed, lamps hanging from the ceiling and even a fridge that Allen casually opens to retrieve objects from during the performance.

There’s something fascinating about watching an album this personal presented almost as a one-woman play. Every song is another scene in a marriage falling apart, and Allen moves through them with the dry humour and sharp observations that have always made her such an interesting songwriter.

The audience certainly isn’t keeping quiet. During the opening song, as Allen recounts a telephone conversation in which her husband suggests an open marriage, women around the arena immediately start shouting, “Fuck him!” It’s one of several moments when the crowd seems determined to offer Allen some unsolicited relationship advice.

And then there’s Madeline. I’ve already spotted plenty of women wearing T-shirts bearing the words Who the fuck is Madeline?, and when the song arrives, the entire arena seems ready. The crowd delivers the line in perfect unison, turning one of the album’s most pointed moments into an enormous communal reckoning.

Allen also knows how to make a visual statement. At one point she wears a dress with a long train covered in receipt details of her partner’s alleged indiscretions. It’s a striking piece of theatrical storytelling, and one of the night’s most memorable images.

For all the album’s heartbreak, there are plenty of moments when the mood lifts. 4chanStan and Nonmonogamummy get people out of their seats, with Allen’s biting humour providing some welcome relief from the heavier material.

But it’s during songs such as Relapse and Ruminating that I find myself wondering what it must be like to perform this material night after night. These aren’t vague songs about a relationship gone wrong. They’re painfully specific accounts of betrayal, insecurity and emotional upheaval. Does repeatedly revisiting those experiences take a toll, or has turning them into music given Allen some distance from what happened? It’s hard not to think about it as she works her way through the record.

In the show, Allen performs to backing tracks rather than a live band, and at times the music threatens to overpower her voice. Given how much of West End Girl depends on the detail in her lyrics, it’s frustrating when some of those words get lost. A live band might also have brought another dimension to the performance, particularly in a venue this size.

Still, there’s no denying how effectively Allen has translated the album to the stage. The theatrical presentation gives each song its own identity, while the audience’s reactions bring an unexpected sense of humour to some pretty uncomfortable subject matter.

After the final track, Fruityloop, Allen disappears from the stage before returning briefly to receive a bouquet of flowers. And that’s it. No encore, no surprise rendition of Smile, no attempt to send everyone home with a familiar hit.

It’s an unusual way to finish an arena show, but it makes sense. West End Girl tells a complete story, and Allen has decided that once the final chapter is over, there’s nothing more to add.

It’s a bold approach from an artist who has never been particularly interested in playing by the rules. Lily Allen doesn’t need to fall back on her greatest hits to hold an audience.

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