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In a calm neighborhood of the city, an individual is standing on the pavement, sporting a sleeveless jumper and expressing his feelings. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” remarks the main character, looking into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and currently I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, ponders the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe flapping in the breeze. “Preferable to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes like a foil blanket with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment comedy written by its authors, based on the novelist’s subtle story – takes a dim view at modern life; looking skeptically above its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything related to unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage of those content to amble along out of the spotlight. But. Leonard (one more sublimely idiosyncratic performance from the star) is unsettled. He notices an increasing “desire to unlock the openings in my existence … a little.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now finds himself questioning the choices that have brought him to his current situation (unattached; sporting facial hair; working on multiple educational volumes for an employer who ends correspondence saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, mentor and ally in a weekly board games evening functioning as both debate (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the moniker appears lost in mystery. Perhaps Paul previously devoured a snack very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes a new colleague (the performer), a fresh energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the first episode of a series focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers might call “vibes”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great the performer), a worn-out individual who privately views, records then replays trivia competitions to dazzle his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Leading viewers amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “surely the inclusion of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: that place is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up at the stars, at other times looking at its slippers, quietly confident that nothing is in the world as cheering as being in the company of dear pals.

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