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In a peaceful suburb of the city, an individual is standing outside his home, wearing a vest and expressing his feelings. “I notice myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” remarks the main character, staring up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and now I believe unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his only confidant, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe flapping with the wind. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For those exhausted by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives similar to a cozy wrap and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode comedy created by its authors, based on the author’s understated 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly at modern life; gazing critically above its eyewear toward anything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The program is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration for those happy to pootle around below the parapet. But. Leonard (a further distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He notices an increasing “desire to unlock the openings of my life … just a bit.” The passing of his mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and this young man, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the decisions that directed him to this point (alone; defensively moustached; creating several children’s encyclopedias for a boss who concludes messages with the phrase “see you later”).

Thus Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the performer) acting as his trusted friend, guide and ally during their regular board games evening functioning as both discussion (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The origin of the moniker is shrouded to the mists of time. Perhaps the postal worker on one occasion consumed some food very fast, or answered to a tense moment by nervously peeling some food items using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a vibrant character (the performer), a fresh spring-loaded associate who lightheartedly proposes to kill his terrible supervisor (the actor) at a fire practice. The rushing noise audible is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the first episode of this program not heavily plotted and centered around what a modern audience may refer to as “mood”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the actor), a tired character who secretly watches, saves and reviews television game programs to amaze his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Shepherding the audience amidst this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the star. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the inclusion of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines such as “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations fade though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining currently. The show's core is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up toward the sky, occasionally down toward the ground, calmly assured that there is nothing in the world as cheering as spending time with close companions.

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