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In a calm suburb of the city, a person stands outside his home, wearing a tank top and sharing his thoughts. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” remarks Leonard, looking toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like without a change, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, ponders the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his bathrobe flapping gently. “Superior to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone tired by the bluster and constant stimulation of current streaming offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a warm cover with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Like its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment show developed by its authors, inspired by the author’s quiet 2019 novel – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing critically through its eyewear on everything that involves unnecessary noise, quick actions or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series is, instead, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage for those satisfied to wander below the parapet. However. He (another sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from the star) is unsettled. He notices a creeping “desire to unlock the entryways within my world … just a bit.” The passing of his mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now finds himself reconsidering the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (alone; sporting facial hair; creating multiple kids' reference books for a boss who ends messages saying “see you later”).

Thus Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his close companion, guide and ally in a recurring board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of this name seems forgotten to the mists of time. Maybe the postal worker once ate a sandwich very fast, or reacted to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

In other scenes in the first episode of the comedy not heavily plotted and centered around what the under-30s could describe as “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the actor), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, saves and reviews trivia competitions to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Shepherding the audience amidst this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the star. In case you're considering, “surely the inclusion of such a famous actor contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a diversion?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases like “Leonard's challenge is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings fade if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining for now. The show's core is in the right place: which is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, indicating its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, at times staring toward the sky, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that nothing is in the world as cheering as spending time in the company of close companions.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, just a bit, and allow it entry.