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In a peaceful neighborhood of the city, a man is standing on the pavement, sporting a sleeveless jumper and expressing his concerns. “It seems like my voice is fading. More invisible,” says the protagonist, looking into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his closest and only friend, ponders the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For those exhausted by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in similar to a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

In line with its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment comedy written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s subtle 2019 novel – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking skeptically over its eyewear toward anything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration of those content to pootle around away from attention. However. Leonard (a further uniquely quirky performance from the star) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “urge to throw open the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The recent death of his mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and this young man, a ghost writer, now realizes reconsidering the decisions which led him to this point (unattached; with a protective mustache; working on several educational volumes for an employer who signs off correspondence with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and co-conspirator in a recurring game night that serves both as debate (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of this name appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe the postal worker on one occasion consumed some food in record time, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes a vibrant character (the performer), a fresh lively associate who happily suggests to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the character) at a fire practice. The rushing noise you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the initial show of this program focused less on story and more on what the under-30s might call “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to impress his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience throughout this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the star. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the show's modest approach and starts off as just a diversion?” you're right. However, Roberts does a good job, and phrases like “Leonard's challenge is the missing an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, indicating its favourite duck.” The program that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is on Earth as heartening as spending time with close companions.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and allow it entry.