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In a quiet neighborhood of the city, a man is standing on the pavement, sporting a tank top and expressing his thoughts. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” remarks Leonard, staring up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and now I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best companion, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown moving with the wind. “Better than trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those weary by the chaos and fast pace of today’s TV offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives as a warm cover and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its gentle leads, this comedy – a half-dozen installment program created by its authors, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet 2019 novel – takes a dim view at modern life; looking disapprovingly over its spectacles at anything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The program rather, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people satisfied to wander out of the spotlight. However. Leonard (another sublimely idiosyncratic turn from the star) is uneasy. He feels a growing “need to open the entryways of my life … a little.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels reconsidering the paths which led him to where he is (unattached; with a protective mustache; working on multiple children’s encyclopedias for a boss who concludes messages with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard begins an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the actor) serving as his trusted friend, guide and ally in a weekly game night which acts as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname is shrouded in history. Maybe Paul previously devoured a snack very fast, or responded to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening some food items with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels Shelley (the performer), a recent energetic co-worker who happily suggests to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the initial show of a series focused less on story and more on what the under-30s might call “vibes”, viewers encounter the older generation (the ever-wonderful the actor), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Guiding the audience through all this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “surely the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that early misgivings give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining currently. The show's core is well-intentioned: the right place being “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its favourite duck.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, quietly confident that there is nothing in the world as uplifting as spending time with good friends.

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