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In a quiet suburb of the city, a person stands in his driveway, dressed in a vest and voicing his concerns. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” states the protagonist, looking into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I believe without a change, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his closest companion, reflects on these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his robe swaying gently. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers weary by the chaos and constant stimulation of current streaming offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives as a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-episode program created by its authors, based on Rónán Hession’s subtle story – casts a critical eye toward today's world; gazing disapprovingly above its eyewear toward anything related to loud sounds, quick actions or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. The program is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration for those satisfied to amble along below the parapet. And yet. Leonard (a further uniquely quirky portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the entryways within my world … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels reconsidering the decisions that have brought him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; creating a range of educational volumes for a boss who concludes emails saying “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his trusted friend, guide and ally in a weekly board games evening which acts as symposium (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The source of the nickname is shrouded in history. Maybe he once ate some food unusually quickly, or reacted to a tense moment by panic-peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts Shelley (the actress), a recent lively associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate the awful manager (the character) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound you can hear represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series focused less on story and more by what the under-30s may refer to as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to impress his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Shepherding us throughout this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a diversion?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue like “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism currently. The show's core is well-intentioned: the right place being “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, showing its preferred bird.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, calmly assured that there is nothing in the world as uplifting as passing time alongside good friends.

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