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In a peaceful neighborhood of the city, a person is standing on the pavement, sporting a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” states Leonard, looking toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and currently I feel like without a change, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest confidant, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe moving with the wind. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For viewers exhausted by the bluster and constant stimulation of current streaming offerings, the show steps in as a warm cover with a hot drink of Ribena.

Like its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment comedy developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the author’s understated story – looks disapprovingly at modern life; looking disapprovingly through its spectacles on everything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – too much drive. This show rather, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage to people content to wander out of the spotlight. But. He (one more distinctly original turn from the star) feels restless. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the doors and windows of my life … just a bit.” The loss of his beloved mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels questioning the decisions that directed him to where he is (single; defensively moustached; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for an employer who ends emails saying “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the actor) serving as his confidante, mentor and co-conspirator during their regular gaming session which acts as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The source of the nickname is shrouded in history. It could be that the postal worker previously devoured some food unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling some food items with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a new colleague (the performer), a recent lively co-worker who happily suggests to kill his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the first episode of this program focused less on story and more on what younger viewers could describe as “vibes”, we meet the older generation (the consistently great the actor), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, records then replays television game programs to dazzle his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Shepherding viewers through all this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the use of a big-name celebrity clashes with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines such as “Leonard’s problem is his absence of an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that first reservations fade if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining for now. The show's core has good intentions: the right place being “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, showing the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, occasionally down at its feet, quietly confident that there is nothing in the world as heartening as passing time alongside dear pals.

Unlock the entryways of your life, just a bit, and allow it entry.