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In a calm neighborhood of the city, a person can be found on the pavement, dressed in a tank top and sharing his concerns. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” says the protagonist, gazing toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his robe swaying with the wind. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For those tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a warm cover and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its gentle leads, the series – a six-episode comedy developed by its authors, inspired by the novelist’s quiet book – looks disapprovingly at modern life; looking disapprovingly through its spectacles on everything related to disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The program is, instead, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration to people satisfied to wander out of the spotlight. However. He (one more uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses a creeping “need to open the openings of my life … slightly.” The passing of his beloved mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the choices which led him to his current situation (single; sporting facial hair; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends correspondence saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard begins himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his close companion, guide and co-conspirator during their regular gaming session functioning as both debate (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of this name appears lost in mystery. It could be that Paul once ate a sandwich unusually quickly, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels Shelley (the performer), a recent lively colleague who cheerily offers to get rid of the awful manager (the actor) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound noticeable represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and more by what the under-30s may refer to as “vibes”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the brilliant the performer), a tired character who secretly watches, records then replays television game programs to impress his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience throughout this gentle kindness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star clashes with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a diversion?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines for example “Leonard’s problem is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. The show's core is in the right place: the right place being “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, showing the duck it loves.” It’s a series that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, occasionally down at its slippers, calmly assured that nothing is in life as heartening as spending time in the company of good friends.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.