The Guardian's Jonathan Liew visits the World Darts Championships at Alexandra Palace to explore how the game went from the working men's clubs to the world stage, what the next 10 years looks like, and how it continues to have a ever-developing cultural impact around the world

The Scotsman is a wry, slightly daft ex-plumber who wears his heart on his sleeve. So why does the Ally Pally crowd enjoy goading him?

By the time Cameron Menzies finally leaves the arena, the blood gushing from the gash on his right hand has trickled its way down the whole hand, down his wrist, part of his forearm and – somehow – up to his face. Smeared in crimson and regret, and already mouthing sheepish apologies to the crowd, he disappears down the steps, pursued by a stern-looking Matt Porter, the chief executive of the Professional Darts Corporation.

The physical scars from Menzies’s encounter with the Alexandra Palace drinks table after his 3-2 defeat against Charlie Manby will be gone within a few weeks. Most probably there will be a fine of some sort. What about the rest? Man loses game of darts, punches table three times in fury, goes to hospital, repents at leisure: simple cause and effect. But of course this is not, and this is never, the whole story. In a way this tale is a kind of parable for elite darts itself, a pub game elevated to the level of a prize-fight, even – very occasionally – a bloodsport.

The PDC world darts championship is back, but could the new £1m winners’ cheque make this show too big?

A team of assistant referees walks into the Twelve Pins in Finsbury Park carrying linesmen’s flags and whistles. It’s 3pm on a Thursday, you think, they’ve probably just been reffing a local game. Then, you think, there isn’t a football pitch around here. And why haven’t they changed and showered? Then more referees walk in, more linesmen, one of them in a comedy wig. And eventually the penny drops.

Yes, “the Darts” is back: an indispensable festive trimming that – much like Christmas itself – always seems to roll around a little sooner every year. Fire up all the old cliches: “the beauty of set play”, “bent the wire”, “pressure the shot”. Wheel John Part out of the attic. Fingers poised on the 180 zoom. You know it’s serious, because it’s two hours before his match and Luke Littler is already on the practice board.