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In a quiet area of the city, an individual is standing outside his home, dressed in a vest and expressing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” remarks the protagonist, staring into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and currently I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his robe swaying in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers weary by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, the series – a half-dozen installment comedy developed by the writing duo, adapted from the novelist’s subtle story – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; gazing skeptically above its eyewear toward anything that involves unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute of those satisfied to wander away from attention. However. The character (a further sublimely idiosyncratic turn by the actor) is uneasy. He senses a creeping “desire to unlock the openings within my world … just a bit.” The recent death of his parent has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now feels questioning the choices which led him to where he is (alone; sporting facial hair; working on multiple kids' reference books for a boss who ends messages using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard starts an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his close companion, life coach and ally during their regular gaming session that serves both as symposium (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The source of this name seems forgotten in mystery. It could be that he on one occasion consumed some food in record time, or answered to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a new colleague (the actress), a new energetic associate who cheerily offers to eliminate the awful manager (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes during the opening installment of this program focused less on story and centered around what a modern audience may refer to as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to dazzle his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Shepherding us amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the famous actress. Truly, the star. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a diversion?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” help ensure that initial doubts fade if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism at this time. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: which is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, sometimes downward toward the ground, quietly confident that nothing is on Earth as heartening as being alongside close companions.

Open the doors and windows within your world, slightly, and let it in.