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In a quiet area of the city, a person can be found in his driveway, sporting a tank top and expressing his feelings. “I notice my voice is fading. More invisible,” says Leonard, looking into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and at this point it seems if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best companion, reflects on this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his dressing gown flapping with the wind. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone exhausted by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of modern television terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a warm cover and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-part program written by the writing duo, based on the novelist’s understated 2019 novel – casts a critical eye toward today's world; looking critically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything that involves unnecessary noise, quick actions or – perish the thought – too much drive. This show rather, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute of those satisfied to amble along out of the spotlight. And yet. The character (a further distinctly original performance from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He feels a creeping “need to open the openings in my existence … slightly.” The loss of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and this young man, an anonymous author, now feels reconsidering the paths that have brought him to where he is (unattached; sporting facial hair; working on a range of educational volumes for a boss who concludes emails with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard begins an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, guide and co-conspirator in a weekly board games evening which acts as discussion (“Is the pool 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 in history. It could be that Paul on one occasion consumed a sandwich very fast, or responded to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling some food items by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic colleague who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate the awful manager (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound you can hear represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the first episode of this program not heavily plotted and centered around what a modern audience may refer to as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to impress his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Shepherding us throughout this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the famous actress. Truly, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “certainly the inclusion of such a famous actor contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a diversion?” that's accurate. Still, the actress performs admirably, and lines such as “Leonard's challenge is the missing a look of sudden insight” help ensure that first reservations fade though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism for now. The series' spirit has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, indicating the duck it loves.” The program that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward toward the ground, serenely certain that there is nothing in the world as heartening as passing time with dear pals.

Throw open the portals in your existence, a little, and welcome it inside.