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In a peaceful suburb of the city, a person can be found in his driveway, wearing a tank top and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” remarks the main character, staring into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and at this point it seems if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his closest confidant, ponders these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his bathrobe swaying gently. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For anyone tired by the bluster and constant stimulation of modern television offerings, this series comes like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part show written by its authors, inspired by the author’s subtle 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; peering critically over its eyewear at anything related to unnecessary noise, quick actions or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those happy to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. The character (a further distinctly original performance from the star) is uneasy. He senses a creeping “desire to unlock the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has yanked the floor out from under him and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the paths which led him to this point (single; defensively moustached; creating a range of children’s encyclopedias for a man who concludes emails using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard starts on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the performer) serving as his trusted friend, guide and co-conspirator in a weekly gaming session that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The beginning of the nickname seems forgotten in history. It could be that Paul previously devoured a snack unusually quickly, or answered to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a vibrant character (the performer), a recent energetic colleague who cheerily offers to eliminate the awful manager (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the initial show of this program not heavily plotted and more by what a modern audience may refer to as “vibes”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the performer), a tired character who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to amaze his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Leading us through all this gentle kindness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Truly, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the inclusion of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases for example “Leonard’s problem is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that first reservations fade though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining currently. The show's core is in the right place: the right place being “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its favourite duck.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring at the stars, sometimes downward toward the ground, serenely certain that there is nothing in life as uplifting as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, a little, and welcome it inside.