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In a quiet area of the city, a person is standing on the pavement, wearing a vest and sharing his feelings. “It seems like my voice is fading. More invisible,” remarks Leonard, staring toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and now I feel like if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his closest companion, reflects on this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his robe moving with the wind. “Superior to trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For those weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its quiet characters, this comedy – a half-dozen installment comedy written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s quiet story – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; peering skeptically above its spectacles on everything that involves loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – too much drive. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute for those happy to amble along away from attention. However. The character (one more uniquely quirky performance from the star) feels restless. He notices an increasing “desire to unlock the entryways within my world … slightly.” The passing of his mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and this young man, a writer for others, now finds himself reconsidering the paths which led him to this point (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing multiple kids' reference books for a boss who concludes emails using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard begins an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his trusted friend, guide and ally during their regular game night which acts as debate (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of this name appears lost in mystery. Maybe the postal worker on one occasion consumed a snack unusually quickly, or answered to a tense moment by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new lively colleague who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise audible represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers could describe as “vibes”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to dazzle his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Guiding the audience throughout this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “certainly the use of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts does a good job, and lines for example “The issue with Leonard is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations give way if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism at this time. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its favourite duck.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring at the stars, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that there is nothing in the world as heartening as being alongside good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and let it in.