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In a quiet neighborhood of the city, an individual is standing in his driveway, dressed in a vest and expressing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” states the protagonist, staring toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and now it seems without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Preferable to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For those tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes like a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking disapprovingly over its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything in the way of loud sounds, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The program is, instead, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute for those happy to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. He (a further distinctly original performance from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the entryways within my world … just a bit.” The loss of his mother has whisked the rug out from under him and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes doubting the paths that have brought him to this point (single; defensively moustached; working on multiple children’s encyclopedias for a boss who signs off correspondence saying “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins an exploration for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his confidante, guide and partner during their regular game night functioning as both discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The source of the nickname appears lost in history. It could be that Paul once ate a snack in record time, or reacted to an awkward situation by hastily opening several snacks with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent spring-loaded associate who cheerily offers to get rid of his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of the comedy driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience might call “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to impress his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Guiding us throughout this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “certainly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a distraction?” you're right. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and phrases like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks an expression of discovery” help ensure that initial doubts fade though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, showing the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, serenely certain that nothing is on Earth as heartening as being in the company of close companions.

Open the doors and windows within your world, a little, and welcome it inside.