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In a calm neighborhood of the city, an individual can be found on the pavement, dressed in a tank top and voicing his feelings. “I notice myself getting quieter. More invisible,” states the main character, gazing toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I believe if I don’t do something, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his only confidant, ponders these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe swaying with the wind. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For viewers exhausted by the noise and rat-tat-tat of modern television landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a warm cover and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, the series – a half-dozen installment show created by its authors, adapted from Rónán Hession’s subtle 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly at modern life; gazing skeptically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything in the way of loud sounds, quick actions or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage for those content to wander away from attention. However. Leonard (another sublimely idiosyncratic turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses a growing “urge to throw open the openings of my life … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has yanked the floor out from under him and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels reconsidering the choices that directed him to where he is (single; defensively moustached; working on several children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs off correspondence using the words “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard begins himself on a quest to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his confidante, mentor and co-conspirator in a weekly gaming session which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the moniker seems forgotten to the mists of time. It could be that he on one occasion consumed a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a new lively associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) at a fire practice. The rushing noise audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In other scenes in the initial show of a series not heavily plotted and more by what the under-30s might call “vibes”, we are introduced to the older generation (the ever-wonderful the actor), a tired character who secretly watches, saves and reviews television game programs to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding the audience through all this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “certainly the use of a big-name celebrity contradicts the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases such as “Leonard's challenge is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that first reservations fade if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, occasionally down toward the ground, quietly confident that there is nothing in life as uplifting as being with dear pals.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, just a bit, and welcome it inside.