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In a calm area of the city, a person can be found in his driveway, dressed in a tank top and expressing his concerns. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says the main character, looking into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and now it seems unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his only companion, considers these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his robe moving in the breeze. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers tired by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives similar to a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

In line with its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-part program developed by the writing duo, inspired by the novelist’s quiet book – casts a critical eye toward today's world; gazing skeptically above its eyewear at anything in the way of disturbances, quick actions or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those content to amble along below the parapet. But. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses a growing “urge to throw open the openings within my world … just a bit.” The passing of his parent has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now feels questioning the decisions that directed him to this point (unattached; with a protective mustache; working on a range of children’s encyclopedias for an employer who signs off correspondence using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard begins an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, mentor and ally in a recurring board games evening which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname seems forgotten to the mists of time. Maybe Paul once ate a sandwich very fast, or responded to a tense moment by nervously peeling some food items with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a vibrant character (the actress), a recent spring-loaded co-worker who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (the actor) at a fire practice. The rushing noise you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy focused less on story and more by what younger viewers might call “atmosphere”, we are introduced to the older generation (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Leading us throughout this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. Should you wonder, “certainly the presence of a major Hollywood star contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a distraction?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue like “Leonard's challenge is the missing an expression of discovery” help ensure that early misgivings yield if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The show's core has good intentions: the right place being “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out the duck it loves.” The program that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, occasionally down at its slippers, serenely certain that there is nothing on Earth as heartening as being with dear pals.

Unlock the entryways of your life, just a bit, and let it in.